


Our Tattered Edges (Are Coming Together)

by pherryt



Series: Clint Barton Bingo [9]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Brainwashing, Broken, Canon deaths, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Kidnapping, M/M, Mention of Past Abuse, Mission Fic, Multi, Nightmares, No cheating, PTSD, Polyamory, Second Chances, bed sharing, deaf!Clint, mention of suicidal thoughts, past Steve/Bucky - Freeform, past clint/nat, past clint/nat/laura, post Endgame, some violence but nothing graphic, the snap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-05-31 00:00:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 59,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19414219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: Someone’s targeting and brainwashing kids and if that wasn’t bad enough, they could confirm that at least some of the children taken had superpowers.Bucky even knew one of them.And that’s how Bucky finds himself at the Barton Homestead with Sam, hoping to convince Clint to come back to the Avengers. After seeing Clint with his family, Bucky is certain it won’t work - it’s clear to him that Clint still has some issues over the whole Thanos thing, so when he agrees, Bucky is surprised.And maybe a little worried.Now they’re working together to find the kids but Clint is quiet, distant and angry – nothing like the man Bucky had once met. The longer Bucky spends in Clint’s company, the more certain he is this isn’t going to end well.





	1. The Barton Farm

**Author's Note:**

> 1 - i have over 25k of this written and the rest of it outlined and i'm feeling pretty good about it :D i've done a lot of WIPS successfully too, in case you were worried.  
> 2 - i was so unsure how to tag certain relationships and characters - like past relationships that get no screen time but are important to certain developments and i didn't want people blindsided  
> 3- Clint is kinda a mish mash of MCU Clint and Fractions Clint plus with the added spin that i figured he'd become a lot like the way i see Dean Winchester in some ways - at least for a little while.  
> 4 - this story is actually related to my second Clint Barton Square and comes afterwards: [ Bittersweet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18615607)  
> 5 - i'll add tags as necessary as i go, but if i ever miss a tag you think should be here, let me know.  
> 6 - this whole thing is going to be Bucky's POV
> 
> p.s. not beta'd and i'm having issues with my keyboard. i may have missed some capitalizations or the correct punctuation here and there

Sam seemed to know where they were going, so Bucky followed along, letting his attention wander over the grounds. It was a 2-story farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, something that before the war, before HYDRA, Bucky would never have thought appealed to him.

Now, though… he thought it would make a nice refuge when he needed it. He could understand why Hawkeye stayed here.

Bucky returned his attention forward just as Sam stepped up the porch steps and rapped on the screen door firmly. Within moments, a woman – Bucky was sure he recognized her from Starks funeral. Clint’s wife, though her name escaped him - stood there, the screen door still closed between them, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. Her face was tired and, when she saw who they were she sighed, the sound resigned.

He almost flinched, knowing why they were here – to take her husband away. Surely she would fight that. Sam had to have noticed it as well but he didn’t let it deter him.

“Ma'am, I don’t know if you remember us, but we're –“ he spoke gently, reminding Bucky that behind the snark and his all too Steve like attitude, he was also a counselor.

“I know who you are.” She said flatly. She didn’t invite them in and Bucky couldn’t help but think this was a bad sign.

“I’m sorry, but we need to talk to Clint.”

She snorted. “No.” The tone was just as flat as before. Then it turned weary. “You might as well save yourselves the grief and just go.”

Sam looked apologetic as he pressed on. “I’m afraid it’s a matter of national security, Mrs. Barton. It’s imperative that you allow us to talk to him, let _him_ decide –“

She held up a hand. “Stop. You don’t need to explain it to _me._ I get it. I know the good Clint does in the world. I know my husband, what he did before we married and that he’d keep going even after we were. I’ve never begrudged him that. But he's _not_ the man I married anymore. Maybe it started after New York, I don't know. But he hasn't been the same since…” She waved her hand and they all knew she was talking about Thanos and all the missing years. “Since we came back. He’s lost himself, and I don't know how to get him back.”

Pushing open the door, she stepped back and gestured inside. “But if you want to try, then be my guest. Just don't be disappointed when he says no.”

Bucky once more followed Sam, letting him keep the lead. He hadn’t had any opinion about pulling Hawkeye in when it was first broached but Mrs. Barton was making him wonder just how broken Clint had become.

 _Is he as broken as me?_ He wondered _. Or worse?_ Bucky had been working to get better, but it had been a long, slow thing. Thanks to the Wakandans, their crazy tech that was everything 1940’s Bucky could have hoped the future would have, and their genius princess, he’d been outfitted with a new arm and had all his triggers removed.

That didn’t bring back his memories, or heal 70 years of trauma. It didn’t stop his nightmares. No tech in the world could do that, and the idea of anyone ever playing with his head again made him sick. But now he was here, in a future that shouldn’t feel as familiar as it did, without even Steve, anymore.

Sam was okay, but he wasn’t Steve. He wasn’t his ma or his sister, or any of those people he lost a long damn time ago. Steve had gone and lived his life, and when he’d come back, he’d passed his torch to Sam – honestly, good choice, as much as Bucky might grumble – and made Bucky promise to live _his._

He was trying, but he still didn’t know what he wanted, or where he fit in.

Following Mrs. Barton inside, thinking of what she said about her husband, Bucky realized that maybe he wasn’t the only one, though it made him a little angry. Clint had a home, a family, people he loved who loved him in return. He’d lost them, and it must have been agonizing as hell, but he’d got them back.

Bucky would _never_ get his family back.

She led them inside to a bright, cozy kitchen. Without asking, she filled a coffee pot and got it started, pulling down some mugs and busying herself setting them up, leaving Bucky and Sam in silence for a good long minute before saying, “Go ahead and take a seat, boys. Coffee will be ready soon enough.”

When it was, and their coffees doctored to their likings, Mrs. Barton finally sat at the table across from both of them.

“You’re not the first who’s come here and tried. Fury, Hill, Coulson, others.” She shook her head and took a sip. “It’s not me you have to convince. It’s him.”

“Has he said why? Spoken about it at all?” Sam asked softly.

She shook her head. “He refuses. He doesn’t sleep and when he does, its…” she looked past them out the window, a sad, tired look on her face. “I don’t know what to do. Even the kids don’t make him smile as much as he used to. Hasn’t touched his bow since we got back, even though Lila begs him for lessons. She’s good, too. And he was always happy to _– before_.”

Before Thanos, before _everything._ Before the five years all of them had been gone. Gone, with those who remained having no real expectation that any of them would be coming back.

It made Bucky’s heart ache. He was still mad that Clint got all this back and _he_ never would, but he understood. That was probably the worst part.

He understood it all too well.

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

Bucky let Sam do all the talking when they finally found Clint. He was out in the barn back of the house, working on an old tractor, just as Mrs. Barton – “Please, call me Laura,” – had said he might be.

He’d ignored them when they first came in, but when they hadn’t left, Clint had sighed, his hands stilling and his head drooping for a few seconds before turning to a workbench, grabbing something small and putting them on his ears.

Squinting, Bucky tried to figure out what they were. Coms? Those didn’t go on _both_ ears, though, and they were very small.

“What do you two want? I’m not going back to the Avengers,” Clint said flatly but firmly.

“You may just change your mind about that, at least just this once,” Sam said.

“You tailored a mission just to get little ol’ me to come back to the fold?” Clint asked, arching an eyebrow. “I feel special.”

Bucky snorted and Clint’s gaze fell on him.

“That’s not how it works, you know that,” Sam said.

“That’s not how it _used_ to work, but is anything around here the way it used to be?” Clint asked. He didn’t wait for an answer, cleaning his hands with a rag. “Get to the point.”

Sam nodded. “For the past few months, all over the world, kids have been going missing.”

"Missing kids?" Clint eyed Sam hard. "Not that I can quote statistics or nothin’, but that’s hardly an unusual occurrence. So how is that an Avengers matter?"

"Because they're not just missing, and they're not _just_ kids," Sam said.

He pulled out a piece of Stark tech, snapped it open and laid it on a rickety crate set off to the side as a makeshift table. A holographic projection came up and Bucky swallowed and looked away. Clint's eyes tracked him and something flicked behind them.

"Huh," Clint said, leaning forward suddenly and looking back at the hologram now, actually giving his attention to Sam's message. He looked intrigued, despite himself.

Bucky knew what he was seeing, had already seen it himself. It made bile rise in his throat. This was why he was here, too.

"This is a video record of a family of kids that were taken and brainwashed - and the one that got away."

"Fuck," Clint whispered. Bucky forced himself to look, catching Clint's pale face. On the hologram were two screens. In one, a young girl in bright yellow and braided pigtails sobbed into her hands as someone gently asked her questions and she did her best to answer them. In the other was shaky phone footage of the same child being chased by three others in similar outfits.

Sam himself swooped down in full Falcon gear and swept her up, taking her away. The second screen then went through the same footage again, focusing on each child. It was labeled with their names, codenames and powers, even as Katie explained how her sister and brothers had turned on her in the middle of a fight against some new villain of the week.

"We're lucky. If they'd managed to nab her too, we'd be screwed,” Sam explained. “With their powers, the others will be hard enough. She’s got the biggest kick of the lot."

"Super powered kids?" Clint croaked. He rubbed a hand over his face. "Fuck. She's just a baby."

Bucky knew how he felt.

Clint stood abruptly, turning his back on them, on the recording. Sam let it play out but Bucky reached out and turned it off with a growl.

"I think you've made your point," he said, glaring at Sam.

"So that's why you want _me_ \- why you have _him?_ " Clint asked, his voice raspy.

Bucky winced but Clint was right. Brainwashing was something they both had in common.

"If we can get through to them, if we can help them, the aftermath isn't going to be pretty. They're kids, Clint," Sam emphasized, like Clint would have missed that somehow. "And the littlest one already thinks she's a monster. She's _6."_

“We're here to help them pick up the pieces of themselves," Bucky whispered, “If we can get them back."

"Fuck," Clint said again, softer this time. He braced against a shelf and sagged, his head hanging low. "Fuck."

Bucky agreed completely.

A loud clang came over the yard, startling in its suddenness, breaking the otherwise peaceful farm. Bucky froze, but thankfully didn’t otherwise react. Sam picked up the Stark Tech, closing it up and putting it away.

Clint sighed. “That’s dinner.” He strode towards the door of the barn, stopped and looked back. “Well? You’re here, might as well stay for dinner. Laura will be expecting it, anyway. And I might have a spare blanket or two before I send you off.”

He walked through the open door while Bucky and Sam stared after him for a long moment.

“This isn’t going to work,” Bucky growled. “He’s never going to say yes.”

“No offense, pal, but you don’t know Clint like I do.”

“No offense back at ya, _Sam_. You may have _known_ him, but I think I _understand_ him a little better than you think I do, and he’s _not_ the same person you knew. Not anymore.”

“Have a little faith,” Sam said, following after Clint.

Bucky glared, stalking out of the barn, making his way back to the farmhouse.

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

Dinner was not the noisy affair Bucky would have expected with three children, one of which was obviously quite young. Clint engaged with his family but, other than Bucky, was the quietest of them all. Laura was happy enough to keep Sam occupied, with asides to the children. The children were respectful, even the youngest. 

Bucky stayed quiet, watching and occasionally finding himself in a staring contest with the youngest, Nathanial. He thought the child might be about three or four and he certainly had that ‘ _I’m not scared of anything’_ quality that Bucky wasn’t used to seeing when a gaze was turned on him, not anymore.

He felt unworthy of it, like his whole being was a lie.

Nathanial smiled, gapped tooth and wide and Bucky tentatively smiled back. Nathanial fiddled with something looped around his ears, little bits of colored plastic that Bucky had no clue about.

Clint reached out and gently took Nathanial’s hand away from his ears. “Hey, buddy, you don’t play with those, okay? Are they bothering you? Do you want them off?”

Nathanial shrugged and looked down, then nodded. Clint reached for the objects wrapped around his son’s ears and took them off, putting them away in a case nearby. Clint caught Bucky’s perplexed look.

“Hearing aids,” he said brusquely.

Bucky blinked, the dots connecting as his eyes flicked to Clint’s ears briefly. Their eyes met again, Bucky’s fingers – vibranium, now, thanks to the Wakandans, the same metal as Steve’s (No, Sam’s) shield – flexed along the glass he’d picked up. He felt the sudden urge to pull it back, off the table, and hide it in his lap, but it wasn’t like everyone there wasn’t already aware of it.

If dinner had felt odd to Bucky – the last sit down family meal he could remember was back in the 40’s, before he’d been drafted, and when food was scarce – _after_ dinner was even weirder.

Nathanial was following him around, much to Sam’s amusement, as they retired to the living room. Sitting gingerly on the couch, Bucky tried to relax, but wound up only tensing when Nathanial climbed up next to him, the little blonde head reminding him too much of Steve when they were kids.

Clint leaned on the back of the couch and looked at Bucky. “Don’t look so terrified. They’re just kids. Promise, they’re not gonna kill you in your sleep.”

Bucky grunted, then looked up in alarm as the little boy climbed on to his lap and promptly reached up and started tugging at his hair. Clint laughed, and it was probably the first carefree sound Bucky had heard from the man since they’d arrived. It made his breath catch and he had to look away, back down at the child gleefully attempting to braid.

Within moments, Bucky was surrounded by children as they all attempted to braid his hair, Lila showing Nathanial how and turning it into a contest with Cooper as they each took a side of Bucky’s head. Sam, the ass, was leaning back against a doorjamb, one arm hugging across his body to hold his elbow, and the other hand hiding his mouth and the goddamn smile Bucky knew was there.

Cooper was declared winner and Lila had to console Nathanial, who was sniffling and rubbing at his eyes.

“Time for your bath, little one,” Laura announced, coming to his (and Bucky’s) rescue, lifting the little boy up into her arms. He was obviously tired, if his slumping was any indication. She gave Clint a look as she gathered the rest of the kids and left the living room.

“We only have one spare bed. Either you share, or someone sleeps on the couch.”

Before Sam could say they’d share – because the little shit _would_ – Bucky said, “I’ll take the couch.”

Clint nodded. “We go to bed early around here, so, stay up if you like. I’ll show you where the blankets and pillows are, and where that spare bed is. I expect you two will be gone by morning, but we won’t throw you out without breakfast.”

“So kind of you,” Sam drawled.

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

Sleep didn’t come easy to Bucky, it never did these days. Add in the fact that whatever HYDRA had done to him to make him all super soldiery had fucked him up in other ways and, well, he didn’t _need_ as much sleep as other people.

The Wakandans had run tests back when he was there, comparing him to Steve. Whatever HYDRA had done had definitely amped him up, and it was _almost_ as good as whatever Erskine had given Steve. Of course, if they’d actually been able to get their hands on whatever it was Erskine had cooked up, Bucky might have actually looked as big as the HULK instead of a slightly better muscled version of his previous self. Erskine hadn’t just unlocked some untapped potential - which was more along the lines of what HYDRA had done to Bucky, from what they could tell - but had actually _improved_ Steve’s potential significantly.

It made them on par, a near even match as they’d had all too well discovered.

Bucky still had nightmares, sometimes, of that last fight. What if he _hadn’t_ stopped? What if he _hadn’t_ dragged Steve out of the water, after? He’d almost killed his best friend. Steve had forgiven him nearly the instant it had happened, because that was Steve.

Bucky, on the other hand, had still not forgiven _himself,_ and wasn’t sure he ever would.

He lay on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the creaks of the farmhouse, so different then the tenements of New York back in the 40’s, or the dwelling he’d lived in in Wakanda for a short time. Nor was there the muted background noise of the _new_ New York outside the Avengers Tower.

Stark had left the Avengers the tower in his will, to be overseen by his wife.

He sighed, swinging his legs over the couch and sat there, leaning forward and scrubbing at his face with his hand for a moment before pushing his hair back out of his face and getting to his feet. He padded into the kitchen and hoped Laura and Clint wouldn’t mind him raiding the coffee stash.

The pot burbled away as he turned and leaned back on the counter. Sam was so sure Clint would go with them, that these kids would do what nobody else could do the whole past year, but Bucky didn’t think it was that simple.

Bucky had spent the entire evening observing Clint quietly and one thing he had noticed – despite the love and care he held for his family, Clint went out of his way _not_ to touch them unless it was necessary.

Staring down at his left hand, Bucky watched it flex, the vibranium not even creaking like the old plates used to.

These hands had killed – both knowingly and unknowingly, during the war and after – leaving him feeling dirty and tainted. Feeling unworthy of touching others for fear that Bucky might, in turn, corrupt them with the things he’d done, the evils and atrocities he’d caused.

Clint acted the same.

The pot finished and he turned to pour it out when movement caught his eyes. Bucky glanced over to see Clint, stopped in the doorway. He looked surprised, like he’d forgotten Sam and Bucky were there, but then he shook his head and moved past Bucky, straight for the coffeepot.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Clint asked, pouring out a mug of the fresh pot. Bucky curled his fingers around his own and shrugged. He wasn’t about to tell a near stranger of the almost visceral fear the idea of sleeping held for him. The niggling thought that this was all a cryo dream and the next time he woke, he’d be theirs again.

Clint settled next to him as Bucky retrieved the pot and poured out his own cup. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

“Not much to say,” Bucky grunted, noticing that Clint watched his lips as he spoke.

“Not going to try and talk me into this?” Clint asked him, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Bucky shrugged. “Already told Sam we were wasting our time.”

“Knew I liked you for some reason,” Clint said. Bucky snorted.

They were quiet, standing and drinking their coffee, only the sounds of night time crickets invading the house.

“I’m not a coward,” Clint said suddenly.

“Didn’t think you were,” Bucky answered. “Look, I get it. Of everyone in this house, I’m probably the only one who does. I’ve lost everything and everyone I care about, too. I’ve done horrible things, terrible ones. Things I can’t just walk away from and forget, as much as I’d like to. I was brainwashed and used. I almost killed my best friend. I have nightmares. I don’t sleep and… and the world changed around me. The difference is, you got your family back, I never will. But I get it, and I don’t blame you.”

“Not all of them,” Clint whispered, staring down at his mug. “She was the better part of me.”

“Steve was mine,” Bucky said, trying not to think of old promises and buried dreams.

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

After breakfast, Bucky and Sam gathered their things, Nathanial latched onto Bucky’s leg. Bucky shrugged and walked around the living room like that, much to the little boy’s delight. Finally, as Sam said their goodbyes and Bucky did his best to pry the little one off his leg, Clint stomped down the stairs, a black duffle in his hand, his quiver and bow on his back. He was glaring, daring any of them to say anything, but the glare softened as his children froze.

“Dad?” Lila asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, sweetie, I’m leaving. Got some kids to save, but I’ll be back home again, to all of you munchkins, don’t you worry,” Clint said.

The three of them crowded him, and he knelt down, dropping his bag to engulf them all in a hug, the pained look on his face making Bucky think he was intruding by being there.

He stood again. “All right, you three be good for mama, okay? No fighting!”

“Yes, dad,” they answered.

“You’re good kids. I love you,” he said, ruffling Nathanial’s hair. “Okay, I gotta go now.” He bent for his bag, hesitated by Laura, before he leaned over to give her a one-armed hug and a peck on her cheek.

“Stay safe and come back to us,” she whispered. He nodded and turned away, leaving the farmhouse. Sam followed and Bucky wasn’t far behind him. Bucky had just cleared the front door when Laura caught his arm.

He turned and looked down at her in surprise. She’d grabbed his left arm, completely unbothered by it.

"Listen, I doubt it'll come up, or that any of you will have time while saving the world, but Clint and I have an arrangement, and now that Nat's gone, there's no one to vouch for him out there." She gave him a meaningful look but Bucky was lost.

"What?"

“If he seeks companionship outside of us, outside of our marriage, don’t worry about it. I’m aware and I just want you to know, I’m okay with that. He’s got permission.”

Bucky blinked, surprised and, and, he wasn’t even sure what he was feeling. Embarrassed? "I uh..." he choked out.

"What, you didn't think him and Nat used to?" Laura smirked at him, the first true lighthearted emotion on her face that wasn’t directed at the children. “Or that the three of us didn’t?”

"I... I didn’t really...” Bucky floundered and flushed red. “I don’t understand - why are you telling me this?"

"Because I don't want you to think badly of him,” she said softly. “He’s a good man, even if _he’s_ forgotten that.”

“But why me?” he asked. “Why tell _me_ and not Sam?”

Laura paused and looked at him thoughtfully. Reaching out, she tapped his cheek, then cupped it, a gentle touch that had his eyes flickering down and back up in more confusion. This woman didn’t know him, why…?

“I’m not sure. I think… it’s your eyes. These days, Clint’s eyes look like yours.”

He pulled in a stuttering breath. _Jesus_ …

“It’s okay, Bucky,” she smiled at him sadly. “Now go on. I don’t want to hold you boys up when you’ve got important things to do. Just… please, bring him back to me in one piece.”

“I’m not sure he’s in one piece _now_ ,” Bucky said, unthinkingly.

She didn’t say anything more, giving him a gentle push towards the steps. He took them bemusedly, glancing backwards at her once as he crossed the yard and to the quinjet. Stepping up the ramp, he reached for the button to close it, noting that Clint had frozen in the act of putting his gear down. Instinctively, Bucky followed his gaze.

Clint was staring at Steve’s – no, it was Sam’s now, he should be used to that after almost a year, for fuck’s sake – shield.

“Steve's here too? What, didja make him sleep out here?” Even as Clint said it, Bucky could see he didn’t actually believe they’d do that, that Steve wouldn’t have even left to say hello, but it was clear he _was_ confused and it was Bucky’s turn to freeze, staring at the archer disbelievingly. _Did he not know_?

Sam turned from the cock pit and stared, the same thought clearly on his face.

Clint ping-ponged between them. Behind them, the ramp finished closing and Bucky absently twisted the mechanisms that locked it into place, unable to take his eyes off Clint.

“What? What happened to Steve? “

“You don't know? Exactly how out of touch _are_ you all on this farm?” Sam asked.

“Don't got cable,” Clint muttered.

“Or a phone? What about a damn radio? Geez, Barton,” Sam said, shaking his head.

“Steve’s gone,” Bucky said finally, finally moving again 

Clint’s eyes went wide. “Shit, Barnes. I’m so sorry – what happened?”

Bucky shook his head. “It’s not…” he sighed.

Sam snorted and Bucky sent him a glare. Shrugging, Sam turned back to the console, but Bucky could see him watching them out of the corner of his eye.

“After the funerals,” Bucky said carefully, unsure how Clint would react. He flinched but gestured Bucky to keep going. “We had to return all the stones and Steve took it upon himself to be the one who did it.”

“Of course Captain America volunteered,” Clint murmured. “He never came back?”

“Oh, he came back alright,” Sam called from the front as he flicked switches. “He just took the slow way ‘round. Making up for all those times he left me in the dust, I reckon.”

“Wait… What?” Clint blinked.

“Steve’s old now,” Bucky said. “He’s lived his life like he deserved. And then he showed back up and he passed the torch to Sam.” Bucky looked at the shield that had caught Clint’s eye to begin with.

“So, he’s _not_ dead?” Clint asked slowly.

Bucky shrugged and looked away.

Clint turned to Sam. “He’s not dead, right?” Clint’s voice was tight, tense… dreading his answer. Bucky just wished they had a better one to give.

“How the hell should we know? He gave me that, then the fucker disappeared.” Sam made a final flick, looked back and asked, “Everyone’s buckled up?”


	2. A Parents Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint argues with Fury and he sends them to talk with the parents...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up :  
> for anyone who don't know anything about the Power Pack, you really don't need to worry about it  
> for those of you who do (if there are any of you out there) I'm retconning about 90% of everything about them except their origin stories, abilities/future abilities and personalities to fit in with the MCU - which i believe Marvel would have to do anyway if they actually did a movie for them (I'm still crossing my fingers that a rumor i heard is true and they're planning on it. i've been waiting for freaking ever)
> 
> Also, Mission fics are HARD...

Clint was quiet on the journey from Missouri to New York, Fury now being based out of the Avengers Tower. Clint spent the trip looking over the rest of the mission data while en route, but didn’t ask any questions, but he grew tenser with every word he read.

Bucky wasn’t all too sure this would work out, but both Sam and Fury had figured that if anything would get Barton back out there as Hawkeye, this would be it, and Sam had convinced Fury that it was a good idea.

The question was, was it worth it? Barton was broken, and hell, Bucky should know, he’s been there himself. But if this didn’t go well, Bucky was sure it would _destroy_ him.

Sam landed the jet, sending Clint a worried look before exchanging glances with Bucky. Bucky shrugged. This was his idea, not Bucky’s. He wasn’t going to be responsible for the fall out from this, whatever it was, but he thought it strange that Sam would get all worried about Clint _now_ when he’d been so adamant that this was the right path earlier.

Leading the way, Sam picked up his shield and left the jet, taking the elevator to Fury’s office, Clint and Bucky close behind. No sooner had they stepped off, but Clint pushed forward and stormed through Fury’s doors.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled.

“What do I think I’m doing, _sir,”_ Fury said calmly.

“According to _this_ ,” Clint said, waving the report in the air, “You’ve not only refused to let that child go home, but you _haven’t_ _even told her parents she’s okay_?”

Fury glared at Clint, hands steepled on the desk. “Are you telling me how to do my job?”

Clint stalked over to the desk, dropped the folder and slammed both hands down on it, leaning forward to match Fury glare for glare. Bucky swallowed at his audacity, admiring Barton even more than he already had. He knew few people who dared go up against Fury.

Bucky wasn’t counting the time Fury was the Winter Soldiers mission. He hadn’t exactly been in his right mind. Literally.

“She's a goddamned kid, and her parents are probably worried sick about her.” Clint’s anger wobbled, pain lacing every word so thickly that Bucky had to hold back a wince. “Let her go home.”

“She's a target, Barton, and her parents can't keep her safe like we can. If we let her go home, we'd only be putting them _all_ in danger. Not. Happening.” Fury said, his face twitching slightly in apology, understanding but absolutely steadfast.

“At least _tell_ them,” Clint pleaded. “Let them know their youngest is safe and sound.”

“How will that make things better? We have one of your missing children but you can't have her back? Also, we don’t know where the other three are but hey, one out of four ain’t bad?” Fury looked at Clint pointedly. “Really? Would _you_ settle for that?”

Clint stared at Fury with anguish on his face, the silence growing thick with pain and unspoken words.

“No… but it’s a start. It would help. It would give them _hope_. God knows how much _I_ needed that,” he finally spoke again, his voice a choked whisper.

Silence swallowed the room again, Fury looking at Clint sympathetically, Sam looking… guilty, of all things. Maybe he was finally realizing what Bucky had been saying all along. Still…

“Bring them here,” Bucky offered quietly, wary of the situation turning sideways. This wasn’t something he could solve with his guns or his fists. His words came out quieter than he meant, though, and he wasn’t sure he would be heard but then Clint and Fury both turned to look at him considering.

“What?” they asked in near unison.

“If it's good enough to protect the child, then bring the family here,” he continued. It was a good solution, he thought. Fury surprised him, though, his steely voice flat and uncompromising.

“No.”

Clint glared at Fury, anger rekindled with that single word. “Why not? It _is_ a good idea and you know it. If she can’t go home, bring them here. It’s a decent compromise. The child is scared and alone and her parents worried. What's safer than here?”

“Because the parents _don't know_ , Barton. They don’t know that their precious children are super heroes. And the children want to keep it that way. She's been _begging_ us not to tell them – afraid they won’t love her anymore. So what do we tell the parents when they ask why, of all the children going missing, they merit special considerations? That they're the only parents in protective custody? What _reason_ can we give them without breaking confidence that their child is in more danger than their neighbors? That _they_ are?”

Clint slumped, head hanging between his arms as he still leaned on Fury’s desk. He was breathing raggedly, but eventually he nodded and pushed away from the desk, backing up a step or two.

“Now that we’re done having this argument, get down to the range and get yourself recertified. You’ve officially been off the roster for almost 6 years,” Fury ordered, turning his gaze back to his computer.

"I don't get rusty," Clint growled.

"Maybe. But you still have to prove it for the paperwork." It was a clear dismissal and Clint stalked out of the room. Fury looked up then, at Sam. “Still think this is a good idea?”

Sam nodded, but Bucky saw the second of hesitation before he did. Fury was too good not to have either, but he let it go.

“All right then,” Fury said. “I’m trusting you. I know I’ve got a reputation, but I’d rather not be proven right in this instance. Don’t let me down.”

“We won’t,” Sam assured him.

Bucky followed Sam back out the elevators, shaking his head. “He’s too invested in this,” he said to Sam.

“We _need_ him to be invested in this, Barnes,” Sam said.

Bucky didn’t answer him. This was going to bite them in the ass, somehow, someway, he just knew it.

They split ways partway down, Sam leaving the elevator to grab food on their common floor. On impulse, Bucky decided to head to the range. He’d never actually seen Clint in action, personally, though he’d studied old footage out of curiosity, and it was said that Hawkeye never missed.

This he had to see. 

Clint didn’t even look over when the doors hissed open on the nearly empty range. He stood, partially turned away from the doors, the bow in his hand.

He was looking at it like it was a snake.

"You checking up on me Barnes?" he called. Bucky wasn’t surprised that Clint knew he was there. He’d been a SHIELD agent and a spy, once, then an Avenger and then Ronin. Even partially deaf, Clint’s situational awareness was apparently fairly high.

Bucky shrugged. "No. But since I’ve been here, I keep hearing how you’re the best. Just wanted to see what my chances of keeping the high score is now you're back."

Clint snorted.

Then he raised his bow and pulled back the string and Bucky’s eyes caught on the flexing muscles of Clint’s arm in that short-sleeved shirt he was wearing.

He swallowed and fought the urge to look away.

Bucky had always been able to appreciate a fine looking fella, or dame, and from his brief encounters with Hawkeye previously, Bucky had been struck by the man’s biceps - among other things.

It had been short-lived, of course. Bucky hadn’t been in any frame of mind to do anything more than appreciate the view – especially when he'd learned Clint was married. Clint was off limits and any chance he might have had there was gone.

It wasn’t a hardship. Aside from his own mental health at the time, Bucky had spent a long time repressing his own desires. Liking men had been harder to get away with, back in the 30’s and 40’s, though he’d managed one way or the other. And for a little while, Bucky had had Steve.

But then the idiot had fallen in love with Peggy and Bucky had backed off. He’d ached inside, seeing them together, but he’d gladly step aside any day if it would make Steve happy.

He’d ached even more when he’d come back to himself, reconnected with Steve and seen how torn up over her loss Steve was.

So when Steve had approached Bucky with his plan, well, Bucky hadn’t been surprised. Steve wasn’t happy here, away from her. Bucky hadn’t been enough, never had been.

And just like before, Bucky let him go.

In the end, holding back his desire to get closer to Clint, to see what they could be, hadn’t been hard. Of course, that was helped by lack of proximity and the fact that he didn’t know Clint the way he’d known Steve. No matter how attractive he was, no matter how gorgeous, Bucky had no intentions of pursuing Clint.

Now here they were, not even a bare year later and Bucky was finding the urge to kiss Clint and see what he tasted like hadn’t dampened in the _slightest_. 

Not that he’d intended to act on it, not when Clint had a wife, a family. He was off limits and Bucky? Bucky didn’t even feel comfortable flirting anymore. Something had shifted inside him in the past 70 years and even getting most of his memories back hadn't put him back to normal.

Whatever that was.

Which meant that before they’d even gone out to the farm to pick Clint up, Bucky had resolved that he would just content himself with looking.

And then Laura had given him _permission_ to do more than look.

She had pulled him aside, dropped that bombshell, that tidbit of information and, well... now it was like he couldn’t _stop_ thinking about it. If Clint didn’t get them killed because he was too invested in this case, _this_ would probably kill _Bucky_.

Clint ignored Bucky, calmly and expertly shooting arrow after arrow, oblivious (or at least Bucky hoped he was) to Bucky’s little internal meltdown.

Damn, but Clint was beautiful to watch and Bucky had to restrain the urge to lick his lips as Clint shot, saw the flex of muscles in the line of his arm and across his shoulders, wishing that he could _touch._

Just because he had Laura’s permission, didn’t mean Clint would be up for anything.

Yeah, this mission was screwed.

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * * *

They met back up with Fury a few hours later, after the towers new AI had logged in Barton’s record. Bucky had left the range suitably impressed, and he was still staring at the archer, hardly believing Laura’s words – that Clint hadn’t touched his bow since the world was put back to rights, or as close as it could get.

“So, what’s our next move?” Clint asked around a cup of coffee. “Do we even _have_ a starting place?” Bucky and Sam looked at Fury. Clint sighed. “Right. Of course.”

Fury slid a piece of paper across his desk, Sam stepping forward to take it.

“This is the parents address. We thought it best if our team could talk to them personally,” Fury said. “The police have already talked to them, so they may be a tad reluctant to relive it all again, but before it became an Avenger matter, the police had no reason to believe anything out of the ordinary had taken place. They won’t have asked the right questions.”

Sam nodded; Clint rolled his eyes.

“Do you have a problem with that, Agent Barton?”

“Nope,” Clint said in a voice that Bucky could tell meant that _yes, yes he did._

“Then I _suggest_ you gentleman get your asses moving.”

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

Bucky, as he’d been doing, let Sam take point. Sam was the more personable of the three of them. Clint had a perpetual frown on his face and Bucky was just intimidating, even without the clear visual of his metal arm – which he had covered.

It was a bit hilarious, though, because Sam had a no-nonsense attitude and the same gung-ho mentality Stevie had, and would not hesitate to start shit if he felt it necessary. But people didn’t expect that just by looking at him, so in comparison to Bucky and Clint… well, it was best to make him be their front man.

They stepped off the elevator of the fairly nice brownstone, making their way to the end of the hall, Sam knocking on the door. There was a scramble on the other side, then it was yanked open by an exhausted looking man, hope on his face as he looked at them.

"Dr. Power?"

"Yes?" His eyes flicked back and forth between them, looking them up and down, his brows furrowing in confusion when he didn’t see any obvious uniforms on them.

"I'm Agent Wilson, this is Barnes and Barton. We’re here to ask about your children."

The hope faded from his face and he slumped, but he shuffled back and let them in. He absently waved them towards a dining room table and offered drinks, sitting only when they declined. Clint hung back by the door, leaning on the wall.

The man blinked at them and his eyes seemed to come into focus. “Wait a second, aren’t you - you’re the Avengers. Why are _you_ here? What’s going on? Are my children -?”

“Dr. Power, there are things we are not at… liberty to discuss, for the safety of yourself and others whose children have also been taken,” Sam said. Bucky had sat at one end of the table, coming between Sam and Dr. Power and from there he could not only see out the big windows of the apartment the Powers resided in, but also Clint, whose mouth was twisted in distaste, no doubt thinking about Fury’s refusal to back down.

But that was a battle all of them had lost.

“Look, my wife and I have already told everyone anything we possibly could,” the doctor said, slumping at the table. “I don’t see what good can come of you asking _more_ questions.”

“We just want to be sure nothing was missed,” Sam said. “Can you think of anything unusual over the past few years besides the... _event?”_ Sam didn’t call it the snap, though those that had been there, on the battleground Wakanda had become, thought of it as exactly that. Being around any of those others who’d been there that fateful day, even Sam and Bucky had begun to think of it like that.

“No, I...” Dr. Power paused, a pained look going over his face. “There was the b-beach house.”

“Beach house?”

Dr. Powers’ breathing became labored and Bucky sat up straighter, watching him intently. Each word seemed to be a struggle to get out. “My breakthrough. The-the device – it was… The day of the test, my wife, the kids and I, we all woke up on the beach, with no memory of how we got there. Julie’s arm was broken, the house was a wreck. Even the car was... we couldn’t even imagine what could have caused the destruction…”

“What test?” Sam pressed.

Gasping, Doctor Power’s hands came up to grab at his head, his eyes closing. “The- the -test... my research for... alternative energy. Spent years develop-p-ping it, b-b-uilding the-the device," he gasped out, almost doubling over, pain flashing over his features. Sam stared in concern as Clint and Bucky shared a look of dread. Both of them knew all too well what this was starting to sound like.

“What happened to the device?" Sam asked gently.

"Gone!” the word came out explosively, and he groaned, clutching at his head, taking a few deep breaths before continuing. “It’s g-gone. All the r-research was des-des-des-s-s-stroyed. Was fired and my boss, Carmody, he blamed... he blamed the _children_. Of all things! Said they were monsters. How could he believe that? And I... I can't even recreate my own work, it hurts t-t-t-too much.”

"Your mind was tampered with, damaged," Bucky said flatly. Clint closed his eyes and Sam looked at Dr. Power sympathetically.

The doctor looked up and nodded. "My wife's, too."

"Jesus,” Clint breathed, the word barely audible. Bucky didn’t think anyone but himself had heard him.

"What do you do now?"

"Teach, at the university. Abstracts are easier now, doesn't hurt as much." Doctor Power looked over at them in consternation, his breathing starting to even out, though he was still pale. “Is this my fault? Is whatever happened then – has it come back? Is this why my children are gone, _again?”_

“I’m sure it’s not related, and I’m sorry this happened. I can imagine it’s a horrible loss – “

Dr. Power snorted and Sam stopped. "Agent Wilson, were you taken or left behind?"

"Taken," Sam said, shifting slightly in his seat. Bucky didn’t even need to see Clint, he could _feel_ Barton tensing.

"Then no offense, but you _can't_ understand what we've gone through, what this is doing to us right now. My wife's been fighting depression for years and... When the children were taken 6 years ago," Dr. Power ran a hand over his face and through his beard. He looked haggard. "She didn't cope well with the loss. Their return was nothing short of a miracle and I don’t think I’m exaggerating to say that my wife might not be alive if they hadn’t come home. To have them taken away _again_..." Dr. Power looked back up at them. "No, you can't understand a loss like this."

"I can," Clint said. Once again, Clint had spoken softly, so softly Bucky didn't think anyone else could, but he was proven wrong when Dr. Power's head shot up, his breath hitched. Bucky could see the tears in his eyes as he stared at Clint. Clint looked away, crossing his arms over his chest.

To anyone else it would look belligerent, maybe, or dismissive. But Bucky saw it as a defensive gesture, saw the way Clint’s fingers moved, hugging himself.

Dr. Power opened his mouth but a woman’s voice from further in the apartment broke the sudden, tension wrought silence.

“Jim? I thought I heard the door? Have the children come home?

The woman, who had to be Mrs. Power, came out of the hall, clutching a teddy bear. She looked even more haggard and tired than Dr. Power did. Her husband rose from the table and caught her.

“Oh, no, Margaret. I’m so sorry. It’s not them. These nice men are here to help us though.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and she sagged in her husbands’ grip. “Why do bad things keep happening to us?” she sniffled. Dr. Power led her to the couch, sitting beside her and pulling her into his arms. He rocked her, looking up at Sam, Bucky and Clint desperately.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think there’s anything more we can say,” Dr. Power said. “We haven’t seen anything or anyone suspicious, and they disappeared on their way home from school. We just want our children back, _please_.”

“We’re doing the best we can,” Sam said, standing. Bucky stood with him, both of them moving to join Clint at the door. Bucky had no idea what good Fury thought this excursion would bring to their investigation. It gave them no useful information they didn’t already know, except to show exactly how distraught the parents were.

And who could blame them?

Sam’s fingers had touched the doorknob when Mrs. Power brokenly sobbed, “Do you have children??”

Turning back, Sam and Bucky shook their heads no but Clint looked down, away, then flicked back up to meet her gaze. She gasped and tore herself out of her husband’s hands.

“You do, don’t you?” she whispered, stumbling over to Clint. Clint stiffened. Tears still rolled down her face, showing no sign of abating. Bucky had to hold back the wince. “I’ve lost my babies twice – _twice_!” she sobbed, clutching at Clint’s shirt. Jim came up behind her and embraced her, trying to get her to turn away from Clint.

“Margaret – “

“I want my babies back!” she screamed, fighting her husbands grip. “Bring them back!”

“Margaret!” Dr. Power pleaded, his own voice breaking. Together they collapsed to their knees and Bucky’s heart _ached_ at the sight, at how distraught they were.

He blinked in shock when Clint abandoned the door and knelt beside them, his voice rough. “I can’t promise you anything - I won’t give you false hope. I won’t be so cruel, but if it is in my power to bring them home to you, I will,” Clint said.

Mrs. Power flung her arms around Clint’s neck and Clint’s eyes met Bucky’s, wild and wet as he slowly wrapped his arms around the still sobbing woman. Eventually, Dr. Power was able to peel her away from Clint, back into his own arms, bringing her to their feet.

Clint took a shuddering breath and stepped backwards, turning abruptly to leave. Sam left a card on the table by the door silently and followed Clint out. Bucky nodded at the couple and moved to follow but Dr. Power caught his arm, unphased by the feel of the metal under Bucky’s sleeve, or unnoticing.

“Can he do it?” Dr. Power asked. “Can he bring them home?”

Bucky looked Dr. Power in the eyes. “I guess he can. He’s already done it once…”


	3. Don't Make Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Clint go on a road trip...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... i had actually planned this chapter to go up sooner, but the holiday vacation killed me. i traveled to Long island to see my family and even the parts of my trip i scheduled breathers into got taken over. But i still had fun, even though i'm sunburned and now i'm home - as of just a few hours ago. just finished rereading the chapter, so here you go!
> 
> thanks for your patience! Sorry for the wait!

The return to the tower was less than triumphant, Bucky knew, but he’d hardly expected them to get something helpful right out of the gate.

Clint, it turned out, either had been holding out for a clue, or was just too devastated by witnessing a grief that cut him all too close to the bone to avoid lashing out.

Because, once again, he was directing his anger and words at Fury, growling as soon as they pushed through Fury’s doors.

“What the _fuck_ was the point of that?” He demanded as soon as he cleared the doors. “That whole endeavor was a bust. Now what? We’ve got nothing useful, no intel. It was a waste of time Fury.”

Fury looked at Clint, clearly unimpressed. “I assure you,” he said dryly, “That we’re doing the best we can and are currently running down leads even as we speak. However, we’ve hit a little snag. It is quite difficult to pinpoint our target when there are hundreds of kids who go missing every day.”

Clint went to say something and Fury glared.

“It is a sad reality that children go missing all the time. One hopes that it wasn’t anything nefarious, that the kid wandered off and got lost and will be found, but the truth is that all too often, we have a worst case scenario happening. Ideally, of course, such things would never occur to begin with but that is life.” Fury spread his hands out and leaned back in his chair. “And it is not the Avengers mission to worry about that. We need to focus on the bigger picture, gentleman. And that bigger picture is that we face a very real threat.”

“From a few kids going missing?” Clint asked, scoffing, taking a seat as Sam and Bucky did, though he still glowered at Fury. “They’re _kids_.”

“Indeed,” Fury agreed. “But we know for a _fact_ that at least some of them are _exceptional_ kids. We have to assume all the children who have gone missing _are,_ in some way, and that someone out there is building an army.”

“How do you know that it wasn’t just a coincidence that the Power children have powers?”

Fury clicked a button and a picture sprang up between them.

Bucky blinked and leaned forward. “Hey, isn’t that the spiderkid?”

“As of 2 hours ago, his Aunt May reported Peter Parker as missing. Again. That’s 5 _known_ superpowered kids that have been targeted. It can’t be coincidence and I, for one, find this very concerning gentleman, and I hope you do as well.”

“That’s only two instances,” Sam pointed out. Fury ignored him.

“Currently, we have begun placing agents around the children of any known superhumans, whether or not the children have shown any abilities themselves. Our target may not know that. We need to find whoever it is, fast.”

“Wait, why did May report Peter Parker as missing to the police?” Sam pointed out. “She knows who he is. She should have come straight here.”

“Appearances. May is better at keeping Peters secret than Peter is. She called me first,” Fury said. “At any rate, we’re putting agents around any kid we think may be at threat. Franklin Richards, Morgan Stark, the Bartons.” He said that last with a nod to Clint.

Clint stiffened in his seat. “Fury, if my children are in danger –“

“Relax, Barton, we don’t really believe they are. Not many people outside of us know you even _have_ kids. The point is, we don’t know how they’re selecting their targets, Barton. Do the kids have powers?” Fury gestured at hologram of Peter as it flicked into the Power kids and several others. “We know some of them do. But do they _know_ that before nabbing them?”

Fury paced away from the desk, his arms behind his back. “In some cases, they may simply be thinking the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. If Tony can be an Avenger, what’s to say his daughter might not grow up the same? We have too many questions right now, and not enough answers. I’m just playing it safe.”

Clint begrudgingly relaxed, not entirely convinced that Bucky could see, but who could blame him? Clint understood the Power’s loss all too well. Which… come to think of it, that had probably been the whole point of the trip to see the parents. Not to get information, but to hammer things home, to hook Clint in so far he _couldn’t_ walk away.

Clever, but unnecessary and deeply underhanded and manipulative.

Bucky didn’t like it.

“Barnes, Barton, the two of you won’t be the only team out there, but you _are_ our lead team. We’ll be sending you after the most promising leads and adjust as we go.”

“The two of us?” Bucky blinked, his eyes meeting Clint’s in an equally confused gaze before they both turned to stare at Sam, who wasn’t looking in any way surprised, though perhaps a little frustrated.

“I’m afraid that as the new Captain America, Mr. Wilson needs to remain behind to respond to any sudden, active threats,” Fury explained. “We’re still smoothing a lot of feathers over the unexpected transition.”

Bucky snorted. “It’s been almost a year… the public will get over it.”

“That’s _your_ opinion, and an outdated one at that,” Fury said. “ _As_ I was saying…”

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

While talking to the parents had been a waste of time, lead wise, all of them agreed it would be wise to talk to the child who’d gotten away, Katie. Sam was held back to discuss other teams with Fury while Barnes and Barton made their way to the guest rooms of the tower.

“Hey Katie,” Clint said, entering the room, Bucky right behind him. It was Tony’s tower – well, Pepper’s now - so the room was large and had everything a little girl could want. Except her family. “I'm Hawkeye.”

Katie sat on her bed, sniffling. “When can I go home?” The question was plaintive and so dejected it would have tugged on the heartstrings of even the most depraved, Bucky thought.

“I’m sorry,” Clint said, approaching her. “But it isn’t safe yet, for you or your family. But we’re gonna fix that, okay?”

“Are you going after my brothers and sister?” She asked, rubbing at her nose with her sleeve. Clint nodded and she bit her lip, blurting, “Please don't shoot them! Even Jack, though he's so annoying.” 

“Oh sweet heart, don't worry, I want to help them. I have all sorts of special arrows I call my trick arrows. They make nets or silly putty and things like that,” Clint assured, sitting down on the bed beside her.

She giggled a little, then sobered. “But a net won't hold Jack. He can slip through the smallest cracks.”

“Then I'll just have to figure something else out,” Clint assured again, his voice gentle. Bucky stayed by the door and Katie’s eyes flicked over to him briefly before returning to Clint. “Now, I know you’ve already talked to, like, a _bajillion_ grownups, but can you tell me how you got away? “

She shook her head. “I don't know, Mr. Hawkeye. The magic lady said something and then, and then,” Katie started to sniffle again. “Then they were on _her_ side. Julie didn't even _know_ me.”

The sniffles turned into tears, crying in earnest and Bucky twitched, torn between wanting to go over and comfort her and staying back so he wouldn't frighten her. 

“Hey, hey. It's okay. We'll fix this,” Clint whispered, making the child the promise he had refused to give her parents, pulling her into her arms. 

“What if they never know me again?” She wailed.

Bucky winced and Clint looked at him. Slowly, Bucky moved forward and crouched beside the bed, looking up at the little girl.

“Hey Katie, do you know who I am?”

She sniffled, wiping her nose on Clint’s shirt this time and shook her head, tears still running down her face.

“My name's Bucky and I grew up with Captain America and he was my best friend. You know who _he_ is, right?” She nodded. Clint looked at Bucky approvingly, even as he rocked her, running a soothing hand through her loose hair, the braids from the video long gone. 

“Well, when we were on a mission together, I got caught by some bad guys and brainwashed to forget everyone, including him and even myself, and I did some bad things like that. But I came back. With Captain America and the help of the other Avengers, I remembered who I was and who my best friend was and now I fight for the good guys again.”

“You're an Avenger?” She asked, her voice still a little shaky. 

“I am. And so is Hawkeye,” Bucky agreed, nodding at Clint.

She looked between them and bit her lip. “Were _you_ ever brainwashed?” she asked Clint. 

Clint nodded. “It's why they picked Bucky and me of _aaaaallll_ the Avengers to try and help, because we understand what your sister and brothers will be feeling when they remember who they are.”

“So anything you can remember about that last fight could help us,” Bucky said.

She nodded. “Okay, I’ll try,” she said, taking a deep but still shaky breath. “It was Carmody. Dad's old boss. He thinks we're monsters and... Sometimes I think he's right.” Her voice was no louder than a whisper but it was filled with far too much pain for a small child and it near tore him apart. From the look that flashed over Clint’s face before he recovered, it had gutted him.

She looked down and rubbed her eyes. “He teamed up with some magic lady, I guess,” she shrugged “And Alex had me disintegrate some trash on the street and told me to shoot them. But... I don't wanna hurt anyone. Even if they're bad guys. An' I missed, like I always do, cause I'm scared. And Alex was yelling at me and then I.. I.. Tried again but I got a car instead and made it explode by accident. Then there was a lot of yelling after that, I think, but... I couldn't really hear it, cause my ears went all funny.”

Bucky and Clint exchanged looks.

“How close were you to the explosion?” Clint asked

“Really close.” She held up her arm to show off her bandages. “See? An’ my leg too.”

“Were you the closest?” Clint asked

She nodded and sighed. “I’m sorry I’m not much help. Everyone else is older an’ smarter than me.”

“Actually... that was really helpful. I think we have a clue we didn't have before.”

She looked up with hope. “Really?”

Clint nodded back seriously. “Yeah. You couldn't hear the magic lady, but everyone else could. I bet that's how she put them under her spell.”

Katie gasped. “But won't she put _you_ under her spell too if you fight her?”

A grin bloomed over Clint's face. “She can try, but, look here-” He turned his head and pointed at his ears. “I can turn these off and she won't be able to get me.”

Katie gave them both a watery but bright smile throwing her arms around first Clint and then Bucky, throwing him. He wobbled due more to his surprise than the impact, and slowly hugged her, patting her back lightly.

Fuck, he thought, now _he_ was probably way more invested than was probably wise. He sure as hell hoped this didn't turn around to bite them in the ass as he kept thinking it would.

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

They'd spent a little more time asking Katie more questions, including about the night Dr. Power had mentioned. The child was definitely helpful, though they’d had to turn around and talk her down from attempting to come with them.

Bucky understood. Even as a kid, he’d always been there to stand up for Steve when Steve got himself into trouble. He’d protected his sisters too, and his ma, even before he’d become a sniper, before he’d been ‘upgraded’ from normal human to Super Soldier.

And here, this kid _had_ power – and had _already_ been running around the city being a super hero and her family was in danger. How do you tell her no when she was already doing all of that?

But it had to be done. As hard as it was to say no to the anguish and need on her face, as much as he understood, neither he nor Clint could, in all conscience, allow a mere _child_ to walk blindly into danger, superhero or not.

They left the apartment she’d been given, running into Hill on their way to the conference level to secure a room.

“Find out anything useful?” Hill asked, without preamble.

“Actually, we think so,” Clint said, entering one of the conference rooms. It woke up as they walked in, Clint going straight for the Stark interface and navigating it flawlessly. 

“We now have a name to go with a face.” He pulled up the footage Sam had first showed them and froze on a frame of a middle-aged man in a white suit and goggles with a back pack. It looked like a jetpack, if Bucky didn’t miss his guess.

“This is Carmody.” He pulled up several more files and set them side by side above the footage. “Dr. Power’s old boss. Six years ago, he fired Dr. Power after he refused to continue his work on alternative energy research, an anti-matter device, after a series of unlikely incidents that left the doctor and his wife with strangely specific memory loss. At the same time, his work had gone missing, his home destroyed and he was too traumatized by whatever happened to even think about his work, much less talk about it or return to it.”

“Alternative energy? But we already had Tony's reactor."

“Dr. Power started his research years before Tony walked out of Afghanistan with a miniature arc reactor in his chest. Plus, if I recall correctly, he didn't actually advertise that at first, did he?" Clint pointed out. Bucky stayed quiet. He’d been on ice during that time and had only learned about them after the fact.

Hill inclined her head to concede the point.

“Also, when have you ever known a scientist or an inventor who didn't work on things just because?"

"Never."

"Exactly,” Clint said firmly. “So Carmody fires Power but gets fired in turn for being unhinged. He accused the Power kids of stealing a device bigger than this room and being monsters. His descriptions of the theft _do_ align with what we know of their powers and Katie confirmed it."

"But why?" Maria asked.

"Because of aliens," Clint bit out. “Some species apparently called Snarks kidnapped Dr. Power and his wife to get the research while a different alien gave the kids _his_ powers before dying. He told them to make sure the Snarks didn't get it, and that it never got turned on because, if it did, it would destroy the world."

"So they blew up their fathers life work?" Hill asked, shaking her head. “And saved the planet in doing so. Looks like we owe them.”

"And then saved their parents," Bucky said quietly. It amazed and horrified him. Kids shouldn’t have to be out there doing things like this. They should be kids. Clint paused, head bowing for a second, like Bucky’s words were weighing on him.

Bucky knew he was thinking the same thing.

"So Carmody is out for revenge?" Hill asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“That’s what it looks like." Clint starting moving again, enlarging the second picture, tapping it a few times. The second picture of Carmody was clearer, something they could actually work with, not hidden under goggles or a mask.

"Right. We can have search algorithms set up for Carmody asap. He can’t stay in that getup all the time, or we’d have found him already," Hill said, moving to walk away.

"Wait,” Bucky called before she could reach the door. “There’s more.”

Clint isolated another fragment of the battle. "We still don't know who _she_ is, but we believe this lady here is using an audio component to bringing the children under her thrall. But we can get around that. Like how Loki," Bucky saw Clint’s shoulders tighten, though he didn't falter, "couldn't get to Tony because the arc reactor obstructed his access, Katie had partial temporary hearing loss when her siblings were taken in."

Hill nodded, giving them her impressed face, which Bucky had already learned was hard won, probably from working with Fury for so long.

"Good work, gentlemen. I'll let our other teams know." She tossed something at Bucky, who automatically caught it without seeing what it was. It jangled and he opened his fists to see a set of keys. He glanced at her quizzically. “In the meantime, you two need to head out. The science team managed to isolate some energy signature the target uses or gives off and they’re tracking it. Currently, it’s on the move north and you two are going to follow it.”

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

They drove in silence, punctuated only by music for over an hour. They were well into Connecticut before Bucky brought up something that was bothering him.

“Hey, something I don’t get,” he said, glancing at Clint to make sure he had his attention, still confused by the man’s appearance. Clint had, in the space of getting ready for their mission and getting into the car, somehow acquired 5 band aids – one of which was prominently displayed on his nose. Bucky, for the life of him, hadn’t been able to figure out what the man had done.

Clint turned to face him and Bucky continued. “When you argued with Fury, you said it was important to give the parents the hope you hadn’t got. But when you were face to face with them, you specifically said you wouldn’t.”

“What I said was that I wouldn’t give them _false_ hope,” Clint said tiredly.

“Okay, I’m not seeing the difference here,” Bucky admitted after a minute.

“If we had been able to reunite them with Katie, they’d have a _real_ hope, because if one kid could come home, then why not the other three? It was hope with evidence, and we wouldn’t even have made any promises, it would all be implied.” He looked away from Bucky. “I try not to make promises I can’t guarantee I can keep. I’ve made that mistake before.”

Bucky inclined his head. “Fair enough. But you _did_ promise Katie.”

Clint looked down and away, his lips tightening, his hands clenching. “She was so scared but trying to be brave… I couldn’t… I _had_ to…” Clint’s voice came out as barely a whisper.

They returned to silence, stopping once for a rest stop that lasted longer than they’d wished as Hill called to update their route. They’d lost track of the energy signature briefly, and when it had popped back up, it’d doubled back and headed north.

They turned the car around at the next exit, making for the target, the car filled only with music that Clint couldn’t stop fiddling with. Bucky didn’t know _anything_ on the radio these days so he only spoke up when something came on that really bothered him.

That worked for a short time, and then it was, apparently, Clint’s turn to break the silence.

“Aren’t you _tired_ of all of this?”

Bucky gave him a quick glance.

“All of what? Driving?” he asked, knowing it wasn’t really the question Clint had been asking. “I mean, I guess? I do miss my bike. Car really isn’t the same.”

“No, not what I meant,” Clint bit out sharply, frustrated by Bucky’s evasion. He threaded a hand through his hair. Bucky still wasn’t sure if he liked the… Mohawk? That’s what it was called, right? But then he imagined it was _his_ hands in Clint’s hair and – no, he squashed the thought as Clint kept talking. “All the fighting and shit. Would have thought, with your history, that you’d have been all too glad to put it behind you, once your name had been cleared, not join the Avengers.”

Bucky shrugged, aiming to make it as nonchalant and careless as he could, though his fingers twitched on the steering wheel. He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully, but Clint was sharp and Bucky wasn’t sure how much he could hide from the archer.

Or if he should.

Shared pain, and all, right? That was the adage and hell, wasn’t that exactly what he was doing by going to a therapist? And to top it all off, Clint had more in common with Bucky than anyone else he’d met yet. What were the odds of the strangely specific circumstances that had happened to _both_ of them?

“What else can I even do?” Bucky said, the words quiet enough that even the barely there purr of the newfangled car almost drowned them out. Clint’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Bucky.

“I don’t know, get a life? Spend time with friends? Start a family? Go to college and explore yourself?”

Bucky’s laugh came out sharper than he intended, more of a harsh bark.

“Right. The Winter Soldier can absolutely slip into the quiet life with no problems at all.” He glanced at Clint. “Already tried that, pal. Didn’t go over too well, if I recall. You should too, seeing as you were there for the fall out.”

“Besides,” Bucky continued. “At least I can do some good like this. It’s gotta count for something.”

Clint’s eyes shuttered, his face closing down and he grunted, then turned away from Bucky to watch the passing scenery, not another word spoken till they got to the motel later that night, leaving Bucky all too much time to think.

God, he _did_ wish for the quiet life. Clint wasn’t wrong. The dreams he’d had from before the war seemed so distant now, out of reach. Even Wakanda hadn’t been safe, hadn’t been the paradisiacal haven he’d hoped it would be. War had come to it twice while he was there, twice from the outside world when there hadn’t been such a thing for them in… god, centuries or more? Bucky hadn’t asked.

He’d been too scared to ask.

Sure, those hadn’t been his fault, he wasn’t so stupid as to believe that and yet, it felt like conflict just followed him around like a dark thundercloud.

He owed T’Challa and Shuri quite a lot – all of them, really – but it had seemed the best decision for them all if he just, left.

So he had.

But Clint was right. Despite being so good at it, Bucky was just so _sick_ of fighting. And lonely too. Sometimes, he was so lonely and spent so much time fighting that he feared the Winter Solder would return and Bucky would be swept away.

And there wouldn’t be a Steve around to knock some sense back into him again.

Bucky would be lost.


	4. Rough Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teaming up with Clint was proving to have a bit of friction... and it looked like Clint wasn't the only one whose preferred weapon was a bow...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter earns the E rating  
> also, this is an attempt at some rough/angry sex which is not really my thing so... not sure it actually qualifies or not. Its fully consensual though

They stopped for the night in the middle of a nowhere town that’s only significance was that it lay along a major highway. Strictly speaking, the distance between where they were and where they’d started hadn’t been all that much at all, but they’d made so many twists and turns and detours along the way trying to follow a trail they couldn’t see - and kept losing to boot - that it had extended the trip significantly.

And they still didn’t even know what the woman looked like or if she and Carmody were traveling together or if the kids were traveling with them or separately.

“We should concentrate on Carmody,” Bucky said, dropping his duffle on the bed closest to the door.

“We should find the kids,” Clint countered. “They’re vulnerable, in danger. They should be our priority.”

“Look, Carmody’s obviously the weak link. We find him, I bet he breaks fast and we get all the information we need to find her _and_ the kids,” Bucky said.

“Don’t tell me how to do my job,” Clint growled, slamming his own bag down. He was more careful with his bow.

“We’re _supposed_ to be working together, which means exchanging ideas,” Bucky said, frowning at Clint. Did he have to be so antagonistic? He watched Clint’s expression flicker before it shuttered down again.

“I’m going out, scout the town,” Clint said finally, drawing on his jacket and heading for the door.

“You should get some sleep,” Bucky said.

Clint waved him off. “ _You_ need to get some sleep; I can sleep in the car.” He yanked open the door. “Don’t worry, Barnes. I’ll be fine.”

Bucky stared after the closed door with another frown, then shook his head. Clint wasn’t wrong, but Bucky also didn’t need quite so much sleep as regular people did. Food, though, _that_ he needed, and he’d been driving all day.

The diner across the road wasn’t the best food he’d ever had but he’d also had worse. Especially as the Winter Soldier. He’d eaten what he’d been told to eat, when he was told, and he’d had so little of himself left that he’d only vaguely noted that it didn’t taste all that great and that was that.

Any food that wasn’t that scientifically put together gruel was a step up in his opinion - no matter that the gruel was designed to keep him in tip top shape - and diner food was, in comparison, a practical Heaven.

The food at Starks Tower and those fancy restaurants he occasionally brought himself to try were actual Nirvana. He may have eaten himself into a food coma once or twice – once his system adjusted to the change in diet – which was quite a feat, actually, and had left Sam staring at him incredulously with some comment about Super Soldier appetites.

Bucky thought about his next move as he ate. Clint, if he didn’t miss his guess, was probably skulking around on rooftops, his reluctance to deal with anybody in his broken grief all too clear. And while that was all well and good, they should have boots on the ground too, and since Bucky didn’t need to sleep _yet_ , he could go out for a few hours on an information gathering tour of the town and still go to bed and get his 4 hours before potentially needing to leave.

So that’s what he’d do, he thought as he chewed.

Finishing his meal, Bucky pocketed some food to save for later, paid the bill and left. Best method for this? Small town, this time of night, needing to stay inconspicuous – bars. If he read Carmody right, the man would absolutely be craving a beer or two – especially if he had to deal with a bunch of brats all day, brainwashed or not.

Checking his phone, Bucky went for the closest bar to the motel. There were only two motels in town so he was figuring that if Carmody went out, he’d be at one of the bars closest to a motel. They hadn’t seen anything suspicious at this particular hotel when they rolled in, but it was still possible one or more of them had arrived and holed up at the same one Bucky and Clint had chosen.

Shaking his hair back – the new cut made it impossible to actually tie back, though it was still longer than he’d had it back in the 40’s – Bucky strode into the bar that proudly proclaimed itself as the Roadhouse with a flickering sign and attempted to blend in. It was cool enough weather that the long sleeves weren’t cause for suspicion at least.

He took the place in as he made his way to the bar. Inside wasn’t near as dingy as the outside would have made it appear. It was dark, a little smoky perhaps, but fairly spacious. It had a good amount of people but wasn’t crowded. A jukebox played some classic rock in one corner while a few arcades stood in another.

There was even something that could possibly pass for a dance floor, should someone feel so inclined. The dartboard made his hands itch – and wish Clint was here. That would be a nice challenge, he thought, a small smile sliding onto his face – before remembering that it wasn’t likely ever to happen, not as prickly as Clint was being.

He found an empty stool – plenty to choose from – and perched on it, ordering a local brew. It wouldn’t get him drunk, but it paid to keep up appearances. He nodded at the bartender when he got it, then turned in his stool to survey the bar at his leisure. With his eyesight, even the dimness posed him no problems and he was able to see even to the darkest corners.

Sipping at his beer, he carefully looked around for Carmody and nearly choked when his eyes landed on Clint instead. Clint, who was standing far too close to someone for Bucky’s liking. Because that… that _wasn’t_ doing reconnaissance. That was fucking…. He was angling for a fucking hookup.

He watched as Clint smirked at the other man and sauntered off – towards the bathroom. Bucky knew the drill, though he hadn’t played the game in years, and he finished off his beer, thunking it down on the bar behind him without looking. Anger surged through him.

Bucky was all for blowing off steam if it was needed. But here? Now? With a perfect stranger when they had a _mission?_

He slapped some money down – he wasn’t gonna stiff the guy on a tip just because he was angry - launched off the stool and angled towards the bathroom, making his steps unrushed, coincidental. The other man had just risen to follow Clint but out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw him falter.

Good. He had a bone to pick with Clint.

He pushed open the door to the bathroom and found Clint at the sink. It was brighter in here, though the partially brick, partially wood covered walls tried to absorb the light. He slammed the door shut behind him and Clint jumped, turning to face Bucky.

The bathroom actually had a lock on it, and he twisted it shut, stalking towards Clint with a glare.

“What the hell do you think you're doing, Barton?”

“None of your goddamn business, Barnes,” Clint said flatly.

“Like hell it isn't my business,” Bucky snarled, swinging Clint around and slamming him into the brick wall. "If it's gonna jeopardize our mission -"

Clint pushed him off and Bucky let him, the archer glaring back. "I'm jeopardizing nothing."

Bucky snorted. "Sure you aren't. You're wound up tighter than a bowstring and you're sneaking off to hook up with strangers at a bar when you’re supposed to be checking out the town."

"I _know_ what I'm doing," he growled, turning away, a wild and desperate look in his eyes that Clint was trying to hide.

Bucky grabbed his shoulder and swung him back, pushing him into the brick wall again. "There are safer ways to burn off energy."

"Oh yeah?” Something else glinted in Clint’s eyes. “Why, you offering?"

"Maybe I am," Bucky grinned, the anger suddenly sliding away, dropping his eyes down to Clint's mouth and back up again. He couldn’t help but lick his lips as his own heartrate amped up. Now was not the time nor place, but if Clint was looking… better it be Bucky then someone who could stab Clint in the back, right? It just so happened that Bucky had already been interested… but hadn’t thought Clint was.

They stared at each other, Clint glaring with narrowed eyes. It was clear Clint thought Bucky was bluffing.

Seconds later, Clint grabbed Bucky's head with both hands and yanked him forward, smashing their lips together with bruising intensity. He nipped hard, then thrust his tongue roughly inside Bucky’s mouth. _Fuck,_ Bucky thought under the onslaught _, this feels amazing._

When Clint pushed Bucky away, he was breathing hard and staring at him defiantly, challengingly. He believed he’d successfully called Bucky’s bluff. God, Clint had done anything but – Bucky’s dick _ached_ between his legs from the brief taste he’d gotten of Clint and Bucky wanted nothing more than to grind against him.

But he had a better idea. Something he’d missed… and he’d wanted to _taste_ Clint since nearly the first time they’d met.

"Think that's gonna scare me off, Barton?" Bucky growled. And if that growl had less of the intimidation factor and more of the, _oh god, he’s so fucking hot_ factor, Bucky didn’t think Clint had noticed. Or cared. "Think again."

Pinning Clint to the wall with his metal hand, Bucky reached down between them with his right, unsnapping Clint’s pants and sliding the zipper down agonizingly slowly. Bucky wanted to drive Clint mad, and from the sound of Clint’s groan, it was working. Clint writhed under Bucky, biting down harshly on his bottom lip as Bucky’s hand closed around Clint’s hard cock.

Clint clutched at Bucky’s head, as Bucky made his way along Clint’s jaw, down to the pulse along his neck and bit down. Clint groaned, his hips thrusting up into Bucky’s hand as Bucky continued to suck and bite Clint’s exposed neck.

Was the archer aware of how his head had fallen to the side, leaving himself wide open to Bucky? Bucky thumbed the slit of Clint’s cock, then put his hand in motion, jerking the throbbing length slowly.

“Fuck,” Clint growled, getting a good grip on Bucky’s hair with his hands and yanking him up to slam their lips together again, and Bucky’s breath stuttered with want so hard it was like a punch in the gut.

It had been far too long since Bucky had had anything like this and he growled again, relishing in the twitch of Clint’s cock in his hand at the sound. He leaned back, pulling their mouths apart, hair falling into his eyes, and Clint’s mouth opened – likely to protest – when Bucky smirked and dropped to his knees.

Clint’s eyes went wide, his pupils blown.

“Jesus, Barnes,” Clint breathed out. “How often did you blow guys in the bathroom back in the 40’s?”

“Mmmm… often enough,” he leaned in close and breathed on Clint’s cock, watching as it twitched again, Clint gasping. “Bathrooms, back alleys, the barracks during the war…” he looked up and said slyly, “Me and Stevie’s bedroom…”

Pushing forward, Bucky took Clint eagerly into his mouth, feeling the heavy weight of Clint’s cock on his tongue, the heat of him warming Bucky up from the inside. His eyes fluttered shut on a long, hard suck before he forced them open again to look up at Clint.

He watched Clint’s eyes grow desperate with the slow slide of Bucky’s mouth, heard the soft whine from Clint’s throat when Bucky pulled back to the very tip of Clint’s cock and taunted him with light breaths and barely there licks before he gave in and showed Clint what he could do. In one quick motion, Bucky took Clint down to the root, Clint’s cock hitting the back of his throat.

Clint swore when Bucky swallowed. Looked like he still had it, then. Steve had always sworn by Bucky’s blowjobs. So had a few other men.

Staring down at Bucky, Clint’s eyes were wide, filled with something Bucky couldn’t quite read. Bucky slipped back, grabbing Clint’s hands and pulling them back to his head. Clint’s fingers curled into Bucky’s hair, a tight grip, giving a testing yank and Bucky groaned, eyes fluttering shut briefly.

“God, you love this, don’t you?” Clint gasped. Bucky nodded, because it wasn’t a lie, and put his hands on Clint’s hips, keeping him pressed to the wall while he mouthed along Clint’s heated flesh, taking the tip of Clint’s cock back into his mouth and let it sit there, waiting.

He stared up at Clint as the archer stared down, his unreadable eyes hooded now as he bit his own lip. 

With a slow lick, Bucky pulled back off once more. “What are you _waiting_ for, Barton?” he goaded.

With a grunt, Clint yanked Bucky’s head forwards, shoved his dick into Bucky’s mouth and groaned when Bucky’s mouth engulfed his cock. He set a fast pace, pulling Bucky’s head along his cock relentlessly and Bucky groaned around him, his fingers gripping Clint’s hips hard.

He was probably leaving bruises, but Clint didn’t seem to care, wasn’t trying to push Bucky off. He wanted rough; Bucky could roll with that.

“Fuck, look at you,” Clint said, his eyes going wild, his mouth parted on quiet gasps and moans.

Bucky's fingers tightened further on Clint's hips and pulled, urging him forwards, urging him to _take_. Above him, Clint cursed and his fingers yanked at Bucky's hair, stronger than before, stronger than he looked, than Bucky had expected. The sting of his hair getting pulled just as Clint fucked forward made his eyes water and he moaned.

Cursing fell from Clint's lips, thrusting, curling over Bucky’s head, his hands a vise holding Bucky, keeping him still as Clint fucked his mouth .

He could stop this, could easily break Clint's group but he _wanted_ this, and Clint _needed_ this, so Bucky closed his eyes and swallowed around Clint’s hot flesh, the silky rough glide of his cock meeting the back of his throat and choking him.

His fingers flexed, his lips moved and everything fell away to the sound of Clint's hard breathing and gasped curses, of the wet sounds of flesh moving, the rustle of Clint's clothes under Bucky's finger tips. He tried to relax them, it would be bad if he tore Clint's clothes when they still had to get out of here after but it was hard to concentrate on anything but how good this felt, how long it had been.

A few more hard thrusts and Clint swore again, his cock swelling. Clint’s fingers spasmed in his hair, yanking Bucky in tight and holding him in place while his mouth opened on a near soundless cry and a hitched breath, his eyes closed as he spilled into Bucky’s mouth.

Bucky tried to drink down every drop, greedy for it, though some still escaped around Clint’s cock. After his last swallow, Bucky surged up and barreled into Clint, pressing them closely together and leaving Clint with no doubt just how turned on Bucky was as he ground his own hard length along Clint’s muscular thigh.

He kissed Clint roughly, sharing the taste of Clint’s come with him as Bucky delved into Clint’s mouth. Bucky stroked and squeezed those damn biceps, frantically chasing his own release.

God, it had been too fucking long and Bucky _needed_ so bad. He was nearly blind with want, breath stuttering as he ducked down into Clint’s neck. Hands slid out of his hair and down his back, grasping Bucky’s ass and squeezing, pulling, urging him on -

He came hard and sudden, jerking against Clint with a whine before he stilled again, slumping into the archer, his breath coming hard and fast, hips still twitching with aftershocks.

“Jesus Christ,” Clint choked out. “How long’s it been?”

“Too long,” Bucky admitted breathlessly. “HYDRA didn’t leave much opportunity for anything outside their agenda.”

“Heathens.”

Bucky chuckled at the tired outrage in Clint’s voice. He didn’t want to move. Had this been a mistake? Clint hadn’t wanted _him_ after all, Bucky had just been a convenient alternative.

“What the fuck just happened?” Clint finally blurted.

“It’s called sex. Figured you’d know that with three kids,” Bucky snarked, finally pulling away. Ugh, he needed to change his pants. Clint took the opportunity the space afforded him and tucked himself back into his own, zipping up and glaring at Bucky.

Bucky stepped away, ignoring the glare. “Time to get back to the motel. We’ve got a job to do. And no more sneaking out, or I’ll tie you to the bed.”

Was it his imagination, or had Clint shuddered at those words?

Bucky reached for paper towel dispenser and winced at the rough feeling of the paper. Cheap bastards. He sighed, using it to clean himself up as best as he could without changing.

“Yeah, whatever,” Clint said, pushing away from the counter and stepping around Bucky. Bucky snagged Clint’s arm, tossing the towels into the garbage.

“I’m serious, next time you’re on edge, just say something.”

Clint glared and shoved him off. “Fuck you. I’m not on edge.”

Bucky watched him stalk away. _Yeah, keep telling yourself that_ , he thought. Bucky knew what on edge looked like. He’d lived it for far too long.

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

Clint ignored him the rest of the night. He ignored him at breakfast in the diner. He was still ignoring him when they got back to the motel and checked in with Fury to see if their targets were staying put or already moving on.

“You know what would be _really_ useful?” Bucky said, after the call ended. Clint grunted but didn’t say anything. “If _we_ had whatever equipment _they_ were using to track our targets. It’d be a lot easier to narrow things down if we could triangulate.”

“At least we know they’re still in town,” Clint pointed out. “If they stick around longer than a day, I’m sure we’ll corner them.”

“Question I’ve got is, where are the kids?” Bucky pushed the chair under the window back, angling it so he had the entire view through the window and anyone who approached the door.

Clint frowned at him. “That is a good question. How effective is the brainwashing? Is it localized or permanent? If the former, would removing the kids from the vicinity of the magic user – or whatever she is - bring them to their senses or not? That would be good for us and require them to keep the kids close, which would make traveling under the radar a lot harder. If the latter…”

He snapped a sudden, wary look at Bucky, one that pleaded with Bucky to have come to a different conclusion.

“If the latter, then they could be anywhere, drawing attention away from our targets, possibly hurting people,” Bucky finished.

Shuddering, Clint closed his eyes. “She could be forcing them to do such despicable things. Fuck,” he rubbed a hand over his face. “if they regain their senses, how are they going to cope? Grown _people_ have a hard enough time… they’re just… _children_.”

“Clint –“ Bucky started to say, then everything happened at once.

The phone rang, drawing Clint’s attention away with a harsh inhale, raising it to his ear to answer it. Bucky could hear the tinny sound of Hill’s voice. “They’re on the move. Still heading east on 95 – “

Something outside the window glinted and before he could _think_ , Bucky was reacting, his arm snapping out to snag the arrow out of the air just as it shattered the glass, then diving towards Clint and rolling them both to the ground.

The phone fell from Clint’s hands as Bucky and Clint collided, and he left it there as they both kept rolling, moving, getting back on their feet. A quick glance at the arrow showed nothing particularly special about it – certainly not like one of Hawkeye’s trick arrows – and Bucky dropped it, threw open the door and charged out.

The arrow had come from – there! This particular motel was shaped in a small U and the archer was on the roof opposite.

Bucky was already off and running before Clint finished shouting his name. He caught sight of a young girl with dark hair wearing purple as he ran full out over the parking lot to the other side, vaulted over a car and leapt up, fingers catching on the edge of the roof and heaving himself up.

He flipped and landed on his feet, the girl already in motion, running across the roof, twisting to aim the bow in her hand and shoot. Bucky scowled as he ducked – she was almost as accurate as Clint was but Bucky had no doubt he could catch her, or subdue her without injury.

Or that Clint could while he kept her distracted. He wasn’t picky.

But before Bucky could reach out and grab her by the hoodie she wore, or Clint could fire one of his net arrows or something equally as effective, a strange fog rolled over the roof.

No, it wasn’t fog, was it? It was that _boy_ , Katie’s brother, purposely obstructing his view. Even super soldier eyes couldn’t penetrate a soup this thick and if Bucky launched himself blindly at the teenager – _he_ could survive the fall with barely any to no repercussions, but could _she?_

He froze and growled in frustration, swinging at the mist, which only laughed at him. He carefully edged forward, hearing Clint calling for him. “I’m fine,” Bucky grated out.

The fog started to thin out and Bucky squinted to make out shapes. Clint didn’t shoot, and he knew why. Clint was afraid of the same thing – of knocking the poor kid off the roof and hurting her.

Dammit.

It wasn’t the kids fault she’d been brainwashed.

The fog lifted and the roof was clear. He stalked around the edges, looking for anything, but frustratingly found _nothing._

The kids were already gone and the targets were, apparently, on to them.

Fuck.

He leaped down to the pavement beside Clint, frowning, his knees taking the impact before he stood up. “Who the hell was that? I thought archery was your shtick Barton.”

Clint didn’t even glare at him, frowning up at the rooftop instead, the kind of frown that said he was trying to place something. Or in this case, someone.

“Did you get a good look at her?” he asked, following Bucky back into their room.

“Yeah, not that I recognized her. Let’s grab our things and get moving. We can go through the missing persons files and see if there’s a match,” Bucky said, grabbing his duffel.

It wasn’t long before they were back on the road, though the tension didn’t bleed out of his shoulders or his fingers as he drove. “Long dark hair, female, a teenager – maybe about 14 or 15 years old? That makes her and Peter the oldest that have been taken so far,” Bucky said.

“That we know of,” Clint muttered, his fingers tapping and swiping away at the Stark pad.

“That we know of,” Bucky agreed.

“All right, that’s eliminated about a good chunk of our choices.”

“Did they adjust the missing persons files to flag which ones went missing in areas with that energy signature?” Bucky asked.

“Yep. Hill was right on top of that,” Clint said. “That eliminated a significant number of our files straight off.”

“How many are left, hard numbers,” Bucky asked.

“We started off with about 21,000 reports for just this past month – “

Bucky winced. _Jesus fucking Christ_ – the month wasn’t even _over_ yet.

“Yeah,” Clint said quietly, sympathetically.

He wanted to ask how many children went missing per year, but Bucky was suddenly afraid to. Now he better understood Fury’s argument with Clint about the harsh reality of the logistics of the Avengers actively helping out on missing children’s cases outside of special circumstances.

Didn’t mean he had to like it though.

“Is that _normal_?” Bucky found himself asking. Kids had gone missing in his neighborhood, sure, and it always was a great tragedy until they were found, though they weren’t _always_ found. Still, a majority of them came home safe. Susie Mocker hadn’t actually been missing, she’d fallen asleep on the train. Billy Tefl had run away because his dad beat him. Conner had gotten separated from his parents at the park and wandered about, completely lost, until he was found crying by a pond.

And that was over a _year_.

The sheer immensity of the number Clint had given was… staggering.

Clint sighed and nodded before taking a breath and going on. “Hills filter took out a little over 18,000 – probably closer to 19 or 20. That’s all the way up the East Coast. Your parameters knocked out another – “ Clint muttered numbers to himself before setting on “1700, give or take. Still got almost 50 of these damn things to look through.”

Spotting a rest area with a diner coming up soon, Bucky nodded at the sign. “Pit stop?”

“Shouldn’t we keep going?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. After the adventure in the bar, _now_ Clint was worried? “We need to eat, Barton. So do they. Hill can keep us updated on our progress. We already know we’re not that far behind them, not if the attack earlier meant anything,” Bucky pointed out.

“… Fine,” Clint huffed out. Bucky took that for what it was and when the exit loomed, he turned off the highway and pulled into the lot of a Denny’s while Clint checked in. He hung up the phone just as Bucky parked.

“Looks like they’re stopped too. Got a few mouths to feed, so,” he shrugged.

“Could be they’re stopped in the same place?” Bucky asked.

Clint shook his head. “At this distance, Hill says they can’t narrow down the energy readings that well.”

“So, no pinpoint accuracy. Got it.” Bucky opened the car door and swung his legs out. The door slammed on the other side and the two of them walked together into the restaurant. It wasn’t too crowded and they were soon seated in a booth at the back of the room, both of them preferring to sit on the side with a clear view of the door, no matter how it made them look.

Bucky didn’t care. These things were okay, these days. Even if him and Clint weren’t _exactly_ together, he didn’t care if other people thought they were or not. Clint, obviously, didn’t much care either, his own sniper instincts and paranoid thoughts holding sway.

Besides, they had files to look through as they ate. They wouldn’t waste this time just because they weren’t on the move.

Clint inhaled the coffee as soon as it arrived and Bucky eased the Stark pad over to himself, flipping through each file, searching for the face that he’d seen. He was halfway through his steak when he found her. His fingers hesitated in their automatic shifting movement to swipe over to the next picture and Clint stiffened beside him.

“Stop! I know her. That’s… that’s Kate Bishop,” Clint said. Bucky dropped his hand from the Stark Pad and watched Clint carefully. His face had gone pale, his already haunted eyes went – if possible – even sadder. “She’s still so young. She should have been 20 by now, in college.” His voice shook.

_Oh_ , Bucky thought. “How do you know her? Exactly how good is she? You train her?”

Clint shrugged. “Only a little. And very. I just honed a few things. She was already good when I met her. It was part of one of those mentorship programs Steve convinced Tony to sponsor.”

“Sounds like Steve,” Bucky said. “Well, that’s her. That’s who shot at us.”

“Awwww, Katie-Kate, no…”


	5. Shifting Perspectives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam figures out whats going on with Bucky and Clint even though Bucky isn't quite sure where they stand now, except that they're no closer to finishing this mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, (warning?) notes for the smut scene - i put it in end notes for people who want to avoid spoilers

Clint was, if anything, even quieter when they got back in the car. Knowing one of the kids personally, and in more than passing like Peter, was definitely getting to him. Not for the first time, Bucky wondered how wise it was to drag Clint back into the field.

The day was filled with even more fruitless side trips, always getting there too late, then consisting of them lingering too long in any town as they discretely checked to see if anything weird had gone down.

Bucky watched Clint pacing jerkily several feet from the car from where Bucky was leaning on it. They were currently holed up at a rest area, parked in the furthest part of the lot from anyone else - just in case.

Hill had called to say they'd lost the trail again and Clint wasn't taking it that well. Finding out about Kate had increased the pressure on Clint, and Bucky didn't think the man needed any more of that

Wouldn't mind putting a different type of pressure on him though. He nearly groaned, tearing his eyes away from Clint. Damnit. He was on a damn mission, he needed to stop thinking like that, even if he _was_ hoping for a repeat of last night.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and his phone rang. Clint's head shot around to stare at him as Bucky reached through the open window and snagged his phone off the dash, answering it.

He waved Clint off as he did. "Hey Sam."

Clint's shoulders slumped. Sam wouldn't be calling with bearings and they both knew it.

"Just checking up on you two. How's he holding up?"

Bucky considered the truth for a brief second than closed his eyes. Who was he kidding? He'd cover for Clint same way he'd always covered for Steve when he went off the rails, by making sure he was right there with him to minimize the damage.

Seemed he might have a thing for disaster blondes. Fuck, he was screwed.

"Peachy."

"Bucky..." Sam's voice came in loud and oh-so-very-clear, his _'you're so full of bullshit'_ tone unmistakable.

"What?" Bucky bit back with the most innocent tone he could muster.

"Holy shit! You slept with him!" Sam blurted.

Bucky jerked forward off the side of the car, his body going from a purposeful, relaxed slouch to taut in a matter of seconds. With a quick, anxious look at Clint - who was back to ignoring Bucky and pacing, fists clenched at his sides - Bucky turned his back to Clint and stepped away in the opposite direction.

"Sam!" He hissed out. "How the hell-?!"

Maniacal laughter came from the other end. "You really do have a type, don't you?"

Bucky ran a hand over his face. "Shut up, Sam. This is not a laughing matter."

The laughter cut off. "I should hope not. Barton's _married_ , man. _With kids_. Never thought you'd pull a stunt like this. Tony, _maybe_ , but not you, even if the history books painted you as a real ladies’ man," Sam said, his voice disappointed now. Holy crap. Had he been taking lessons from Steve? Because that was grade A Steve right there.

"It's not like that," Bucky protested. It wasn't, he'd gotten permission! "Laura told me he might, uh, seek comfort elsewhere." He winced. The future was all weird and shit, at once more open with talking about sex and even more weirdly, somehow more closed off about it and Bucky was never sure what was appropriate or not. "And she was okay with that. Besides, it's a one time thing. Not gonna happen again."

There was silence on the other end for much too long for Bucky's comfort.

"Huh," Sam said thoughtfully. "Yeah, you're screwed."

Bucky growled. "Thanks a lot, pal. Real helpful."

He hung up the phone, turned and tossed it into the car, wishing he had something to punch right now.

It was after 10 with no more encounters when they rolled into another motel and checked in. It was packed, and they got the last room. Clint frowned as he picked up the key and led Bucky to their room. They both checked the room over instinctively before settling in.

Only Clint didn’t settle.

He was back to pacing, back and forth, hands clenching at the foot of the single, King sized bed. Bucky sat on the bed, his hands crossed behind his head against the headboard as he watched Clint. If his fingers twitched behind his head from nervousness, Clint wouldn’t know. Despite what he’d told Sam, he didn’t _want_ it to be a one time thing, though Bucky knew it couldn’t be anything more.

After this mission, Clint would go home to his family again and Bucky would… go back to avenging.

“Are you upset about the bed?”

Clint shot him a look but didn’t respond. He continued to pace.

Bucky sighed. “Look, I’ve already sucked your dick, I think we can share a bed. And if you need to burn off some steam…” he shrugged, leaving the idea out there, even as his gut churned from suggesting it out loud. Clint had no real interest in him, no real reason to say yes.

Freezing, Clint stared at him. “It’s not the fucking bed.”

“Then talk to me. We’re supposed to be partners here, and you’re making _me_ antsy.”

“Right,” Clint muttered. “I’m going out.”

Bucky was up in an instant, crossing to Clint and blocking the way. “I will _not_ have a repeat of last night,” he growled. “It’s not safe. We already know they’re on to us.”

“Whatever. Like _you_ weren’t in the same bar I was last night!” Clint snarled; fists still clenched.

“ _I_ wasn’t trying to hook up with some random _stranger_ like a punk,” Bucky said. “I was actually there to work, which I thought _you_ were doing too until I saw you.”

“I did. I didn’t see anything worth noting and moved on,” Clint said. “I told you. I know how to do my job. Now, outta my way.” He rolled his eyes when Bucky didn’t immediately move. “You don’t have to worry. I’m just going to scout the hotel. See who else is here.”

Studying him for a moment, Bucky finally nodded and stepped aside. “Fine. Don’t do anything stupid.”

He felt a pang saying that to Clint, not Steve, as the expected response hung in the air unsaid. Clint stepped out of the room, the door closing harder behind him than Bucky felt necessary, and Bucky worried that he was using Clint to replace Steve – one disaster blonde with a chip on his shoulder for another.

Hell, even their love lives – Bucky had had Steve until he found Peggy. Bucky could also have Clint, but he’d always go home to Laura and his family. Bucky, always the odd man out, the one no one settled down with, that no one loved enough to stay with.

Fuck.

He was going out too.

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

It was a bust, of course.

Bucky had hit three bars and a diner before heading back to his motel room. Clint was already there, already in bed, but Bucky knew as soon as he stepped inside that the archer wasn’t asleep.

Whatever. He wasn’t really in the mood to say anything to him anyway. He’d let Clint pretend to be asleep if that’s what he wanted. Bucky stripped down, grabbed a spare set of boxers and slipped into the bathroom. He took a long, hot shower, letting the water beat down on his shoulders, the comforting warmth making his eyes droop with sleep.

Finally shutting the water off, he toweled down, stepped into his boxers and shook back his hair before going back out to the room and crawling into the bed. He lay on his back and closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing and suddenly regretting that he hadn’t taken a cold shower.

Guess he still hoped Clint might take him up on his offer, but if Clint was pretending to sleep, then he’d been wrong.

Wouldn’t be the first time. At least Clint wasn’t punching him for it. He’d had more than his share of that sort of encounter in the past, especially back home, even if he could more than take it these days.

He fell asleep quicker than he expected to with Clint a hot presence by his side.

He woke with a start not long after, rolling off the bed and into a crouch, his knife in his hands, his eyes darting around the room – only to land on Clint.

Who was pacing. Again.

With a sigh, Bucky put the knife away and stood up. “What the hell?” he asked.

Clint didn’t respond and – oh, his aids were on the table, Clint hadn’t heard him. Still, Bucky didn’t like the look of this. He didn’t think Clint was sleeping _at all_ , to be honest. He certainly hadn’t slept in the car and most people needed more than 4 hours a night on a regular basis, regardless of what they could do short term.

Bucky leaned over to flick on a light, Clint’s attention snapping over to him instantly. His eyes looked wild and Bucky wondered if the man had had a nightmare. He knew all too well what that was like too.

“Go back to bed, Barton,” Barnes sighed, easing back under the covers. “You’re no good to me exhausted and worn down.”

“I already know what you think of me,” Clint muttered, turning away. It was probably meant to be unheard but his volume level seemed off.

Bucky frowned. “What?”

Clint didn’t answer. Of course, he didn’t, he’d looked away. Fuck this. Bucky got back up and stepped in front of Clint and repeated the question.

“I know everyone thought I was a fuck up before, and _now_ they think I’m a broken headcase. And they’re not exactly wrong, are they?” Clint spat out. “I’m sure you’d rather have anyone here backing you up _except_ me.”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair and cast his eyes up at the ceiling. What had he done to deserve being saddled with someone as self-doubting and self-loathing as Bucky had been? Might still be. He was working on it. “God, Barton, get over yourself.”

Clint’s eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in a glare.

Moving forward slowly, Bucky backed Clint up against the wall and slapped his hands around the taller man, caging him there. “You’re _the_ best marksman I’ve ever known. Yeah, I’ll say it, better than me and you are one of the _few_ people I’d ever trust to watch my back. You’re also compassionate; things wouldn’t hurt you so much if you weren’t. You’re right - I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to be on this case – but that’s mostly because I think you’re too close to it. _Not_ because you’re a fuck up, because you really aren’t.”

Clearly unwilling to ‘hear’ any of it, Clint shoved at Bucky and snarled. “What the fuck do you know about my life anyway? What makes you such an expert in how I should feel?”

“I’m not,” Bucky said. “But in the past few days, you’ve been grouchy as hell, made rash decisions, picked a fight with Fury and you barely _talk_ to me unless you’re forced to. We’re supposed to be _partners_ , Barton.” Bucky growled. “ _So get your punk ass act together!”_

Clint’s breathing caught and Bucky’s eyes snapped from Clint’s wide, dilated eyes to where his mouth was parted on a gasp. Clint’s chest shifted, heaved, and Bucky licked his lips again, the desire that had been simmering under his skin for Clint roaring up. They stood frozen, Bucky dragging his eyes back up to Clint’s, his fingers curling on the wall, the metal fingers scraping it, gouging it slightly before he managed to let up on the pressure.

And then Clint, for the second night in a row, surged forward, his body colliding with Bucky’s, their lips meeting in a bruising kiss as if he’d been magnetized, drawn to Bucky against his will. Bucky moaned low in his throat as Clint’s hands wrapped around his head, fingers cradling the base of his skull none too gently, pulling him in to the kiss harshly.

 _Fuck… guess this_ was _in the cards tonight,_ Bucky thought idly before Clint’s tongue obliterated _all_ thought, plunging demandingly into his mouth.

Clint kissed him hard and Bucky’s knees nearly buckled. God, last nights taste hadn’t done a _thing_ to temper long unrequited desires. He pressed back into Clint, pushing him against the wall, straddling his thigh and groaning as their bare chests connected. When was the last time he’d felt this? The last time he’d lain naked with another person?

Desperation filled him and he ground against Clint, their kiss breaking as he panted. Clint shoved him back and Bucky let him, stumbling slightly as he stared at Clint, gulping air. Had he changed his mind?

Eyes raked over Bucky’s body and he shivered under the gaze. Clint crowded him and growled, “You want this?”

Bucky nodded. “Hell yeah,” he said, breathlessly, though Clint couldn’t possibly hear him. Clint caught the words anyway as he stared at Bucky’s lips. His mouth widened into a smirk, and he lifted his blue eyes to meet Bucky’s.

“Good,” he said. “Then boxers off, get on the bed, hands and knees. Got it?” He leaned in close to Bucky’s ear and said softly. “I’m gonna give it to you hard.”

Shuddering again, Bucky hastily complied, the boxers dropping unceremoniously to the floor before he scrambled onto his hands and knees on the bed with much less grace than he usually had. His cock was already hard and dripping, swinging as he got into position and waited with anticipation, his senses heightened as he tried to predict what Clint would do next.

It took Clint way too long to return, and Bucky’s head sagged with relief when the bed dipped with Clint’s weight. His breath caught, and he only let it out again when Clint’s fingers gripped his hips, biting deeply into his skin. His legs shifted, opening wider under Clint’s gaze, and he shivered, suddenly feeling vulnerable in a way he hadn’t in a long damn time.

The fingers left and Bucky heard a snick – he’d brought lube? Or had he snuck away at some point to buy some? – and then the rough pad of Clint’s finger was circling his hole, the other hand pulling at the flesh of his ass, exposing him. Bucky nearly groaned, biting his lip though he knew Clint couldn’t hear him. He trembled, trying to stay still, waiting… waiting….

Clint stopped teasing and his finger breached him suddenly, thrusting in deep. Bucky gasped at the intrusion, welcome though it was, his hole clenching around Clint’s finger before he could relax. Clint worked fast, moving roughly and soon enough a second finger joined the first. This time Bucky couldn’t hold back the groan, his head bowing down to lean on his arms and his ass canting back into Clint’s touch.

He didn’t gentle the thrusts, and Bucky was sure Clint was missing his prostate on purpose to rile him up. Begging Clint to get on with it didn’t help, because Clint couldn’t hear him. Bucky pushed back desperately, trying to urge him on without words, and Clint smacked his left cheek and Bucky groaned and shuddered and clenched around Clint in response.

“Fuck,” Clint bit out behind him. A third finger speared him open and they moved inside Bucky harshly, shifting, thrusting again and again and – _oh!_

He jerked and bit out his own curse as his body lit up from the inside and he shoved back, begging Clint to do it again.

Instead, Clint removed his fingers and Bucky reared up –

And Clint slammed him back down to the bed. “I’m running the show here and you’ll take what I’ve got when I’m ready to give it to you,” he growled in Bucky’s ear, draping himself deliciously over Bucky’s body. The contact made Bucky’s skin _burn_ and he _loved it._

Clint’s dragged his cock down the crack of Bucky’s ass, torturously slow, tauntingly. He thrust against Bucky, his cock siding along his perineum and bumping his balls. Bucky whimpered at the teasing, wriggled his ass against Clint with a deep, shattered moan for the feel of hot flesh, but didn’t fight against Clint’s pressing grip. He could easily break it… but just like last night, he found he really didn’t want to.

He wanted this so bad.

Wanted Clint.

Clint eased back, leaving Bucky’s back naked and cold, Clint’s hands a hot brand as they slid down Bucky’s spine. One hand gripped his hips and held him still and the other left. He held his breath and then Clint was pushing into him, opening Bucky up on his cock and Bucky groaned.

“Fuck, just like that, sweetheart.” The words escaped Bucky before he could stop them and he flushed at the endearment; glad Clint couldn’t hear him.

It might have been a while for Bucky, but it didn’t take long for Clint to bottom out, sliding home easily in a single thrust. Bucky could hear him breathing hard behind him.

And then Clint set up a punishing pace, pounding into Bucky deep and hard and Bucky let go, let himself be as noisy as he never really could before. Clint couldn’t hear him, hear his desperation, and there was no need to worry about getting caught doing something illicit.

If he disturbed the neighbors, Bucky didn’t fucking care, at this point. They’d probably be gone in the morning anyway. So he let himself be as vocal as he wanted, shouting with each hard thrust, each graze of Clint’s cock to his prostate.

God it felt good, felt glorious. Bucky could feel his desire rising, his dick bouncing with each smack of Clint’s hips to Bucky’s ass, and Bucky reached down for his cock –

And Clint swatted his hand away.

“No,” he growled, one hand gripping Bucky’s hair and yanking back, while the other held with bruising force to his hip, forcing Bucky’s back into a downward curve, his ass high in the air. Bucky gasped, swallowed, his throat bobbing along the stretch of his neck and his hand slapping back against the bed to keep his balance.

Grunting, Clint kept thrusting, and Bucky keened and rocked with it, pushing back to take him deeper. “Oh god, fuck, sweetheart, yeah,” Bucky babbled, bliss coiling around his spine and singing through him, Clint’s hard, throbbing member a point of heat that had all of Bucky’s nerve endings on fire.

Fuck, it’d been so long since something – since some _one_ – had filled him like this. He’d missed it, had missed how good it felt, the sex, the touch of someone else.

With a shout, Bucky came, jerking back against Clint who groaned, let go of Bucky’s hair and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s torso, his head dropping between Bucky’s shoulder blades as Clint’s thrusts turned desperate.

A few more rough thrusts and Clint stilled, biting at Bucky’s neck _hard_. For a few moments, maybe less – Bucky was drifting through a haze of afterglow, so it was kinda hard to tell – their bodies lay entwined, naked, sweaty, hips rolling together in small, aborted movements with the aftershocks before Clint finally pulled out with a groan, to fall to Bucky’s side, panting.

Bucky let himself relax into the sheets and then winced as he lay in his own cooling come. He rolled over and swiped his hand down over his belly with a sigh. Clint had already rolled over, his back to Bucky and Bucky sighed again.

He stood, padding to the bathroom to grab a wet washcloth for his skin and a towel for the bed. Clint obviously had some issues, some of the same ones Bucky had been working hard on himself. It was something he would never have been able to do without the support of the other avengers and the therapist he’d been given but it _was_ helping.

Why wouldn’t Clint do that? Bucky knew it had been offered, that it had been rejected just like everything else had been.

Instead, Clint had decided it was better to punish himself for the things he’d done or failed to do, hiding with his family, away from the support of his friends and coworkers who’d _know_ what he was going through better than his wife would – though Bucky was sure she tried her best.

But sometimes, love wasn’t enough to _heal_ somebody. He’d seen it before. Had _been_ there before. The idea that no matter what he did they’d forgive him anyway – that _Steve_ would forgive him anyway – didn’t fix things, because Steve was blinded by his love for Bucky. His perspective was colored.

The therapist, on the other hand, had no such obligations. She didn’t sugarcoat things, she didn’t lead him by the nose, or bully him into seeing things her way. They discussed things, her unbiased point of view helping Bucky to step outside of himself and see those things in a different light.

It didn’t miraculously fix anything but it _helped_.

So why wouldn’t Clint at least _try?_

_Probably for the same reason I couldn’t go back to Steve after DC. Because I didn’t think I deserved a second chance._

So the next question was, how could he _get_ Clint to try?

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

Bucky had been expecting another attack, to be honest, and the fact that there wasn’t was putting _him_ on edge. Clint also looked twitchy as hell as they got back in the car after breakfast, having already gotten their bearing from Hill.

Bucky just wasn’t sure why _Clint_ was on edge. Well, he knew potentially why. Clint had a basketful of reasons why he could be so off kilter. He could be thinking the same as Bucky, as Bucky scanned the rooftops. It could be the case in general, hitting so close to home both in experience and _home._

Or it could be this weird thing between them that had happened twice now.

Frankly, it was probably all of it, all wrapped up in a neat little bow, and Bucky had no idea how to approach it. He couldn’t tell Clint that everything would be okay because Bucky had too much experience in when it _wasn’t_.

He could tell Clint that he wasn’t alone, but if the efforts of the Avengers and his family hadn’t already proven that, what good could Bucky, a mere stranger, do in that regard?

About the only thing Bucky had going for him right this moment was that Clint was using Bucky to get rid of his frustrations, his anger, and that wasn’t really much. He was using Bucky because Bucky was _there_ , and he’d _offered_ and it had to be easier and was certainly less risky - because surely Clint knew he was in no danger from Bucky, despite his Winter Soldier past, right?

Suddenly, Bucky wasn’t sure. Maybe Clint was hoping to provoke the Winter Soldier to the surface. Maybe he wanted Bucky to hurt him. The idea made Bucky a little sick.

Hell, knowing Clint, the man was feeling guilty for that, too, for _using_ Bucky - even though he hadn’t minded – probably the way _he_ wanted to be.

And that would only add to how bad Clint felt, Bucky thought. He knew what Clint had to be thinking - how could someone who’d been brainwashed _want_ to be used and dominated, _want_ to be hurt?

Bucky remembered those early days after DC, afraid to turn himself in for fear that HYDRA would get their hands on him again. Afraid to find Steve, in case the brainwashing still had a hold on him. He’d spent days, weeks even, squatting in some abandoned building, starving himself, hurting himself – for what else did he deserve?

In reality, what Bucky had been looking for, what _Clint_ was probably looking for, was someone he could trust to punish him for the bad things he had done and help him find absolution.

These things must be whirling away in his head, unreconcilable.

“Why?” Clint blurted suddenly, not looking away from the highway ahead of him. A quick flick over had Bucky noting the white knuckled grip Clint had on his jeans.

“Why what?” Bucky asked cautiously.

“Why did you do… why did you let me…” Clint floundered. It was sort of adorable except that it wasn’t. There was a tightness around his eyes and to his lips; a low simmering anger not quite hiding his disgust – of himself or Bucky (or both, Bucky wasn’t sure).

One thing was sure, though, Clint didn’t know that Bucky knew, that Bucky wasn’t being a sleezeball who knew that Clint was married and fucked him anyway. Somehow, though, Bucky was positive that Clint was more upset with the idea that Bucky would _do_ something like this, not that Bucky would think _Clint_ did.

Because it no longer mattered to Clint what other people thought of him, Clint already thought of himself as a monster and a lost cause.

“Relax, Barton,” Bucky said gruffly. “Your wife explained before we left. I know you’re not cheating. And I’ll let the insult go about my own morality. You don’t know me, you don’t know that I’d never be that guy. I have standards – and stealing someone else’s dame or fella was never something I did.”

It took Clint a few seconds to parse that, his head turning to stare, gape mouthed at Bucky. He snapped it shut, but just as quickly it dropped it open again.

“Okay, but _why?_ Did you…?” Clint shook his head, made some sort of wounded noise, the hand on his jeans clenching into a fist and he looked away, lips pressed tightly together again.

Bucky sighed. “Look, I have no idea what you’re looking for here, okay? Yeah, we fucked. It was good and we both got off. I enjoyed it, did you?”

“Jesus, Barnes, you are not the way I pictured you, in the slightest, back when you were still a piece of history and not…” Clint gestured at Bucky. “Here in the flesh. I always figured you’d be more… I dunno, _40’s._ ”

“I think we can drop the last names at this point, doll. We’ve been all sorts of up close and personal, don’t ya think?” Bucky asked before snorting. “As for the history books, you gotta know they whitewash that shit. Steve was never as ‘clean cut’ as everyone always made him out to be.” Bucky looked over at him. “You’ve worked with him, you gotta know that, right?”

Clint laughed. It was small and short lived but Bucky would take it.

“Fuck, yeah. I’m pretty sure I didn’t get to know the depths of Steve Rogers, but there was definitely depths there that didn’t match up to the all American poster boy everything painted him as.”

“God, no,” Bucky said. “He was always pickin’ fights, lying to the authorities if it suited his needs, breaking the rules for the same reasons. Sometimes, when we were kids, and times were tough, he’d even resort to stealing.”

“Let me guess, you were right there along with him?”

“Till the end of the line,” Bucky said softly.

They were quiet again but the silence this time was less weighty, a little more comfortable. Until Clint asked the one question Bucky should have been prepared for.

“Were you and Steve - ?”

Bucky swallowed and took a few moments to compose himself before answering because even though he’d known from the start that Steve and he wouldn’t – c _ouldn’t_ – last, not with attitudes the way they were back then… it had still felt like someone had torn his heart out and stomped all over it the day he’d realized they were over.

“Were we together? Sort of. I mean, back then, being bi wasn’t exactly kosher. So we had a thing, not that we could tell a damn soul and I loved him but… he moved on, found someone else. Someone he was _allowed_ to love.” It still hurt to think of, even after all this time, even with Steve gone, to think of the day Steve had told Bucky he’d fallen in love.

_“This won’t change anything Buck. You’re still my best friend,” Steve said, only Bucky knew it wasn’t true. Had known the second he’d seen Stevie in Azzano and realized how much he’d changed that Bucky had already been left behind. Sure, Steve had come back and got him, but Steve didn’t need Bucky anymore – not in any way._

_Bucky had failed. He hadn’t been able to keep Steve safe and he hadn’t been able to keep Steve either._

_The war had taken Steve from Bucky as sure as if he’d died out on the front lines. Only Bucky had a walking talking reminder of Steve everywhere he turned, a ghost that looked nothing like the punk that should have been waiting for him at home, except for the fire in his eyes and the stubborn set in his jaw._

“I’m sorry,” Clint said softly.

Shrugging, Bucky kept his attention on the road.

The rest of the day passed quietly, with frequent updates from Hill and occasional small talk. They stopped twice for coffee – Bucky had to admit he was impressed, he’d never seen anyone consume the sheer amount of coffee in one sitting as Clint could – once for lunch and made 2 more side trips to unknown towns that yielded little to no fruit before stopping off at third town somewhere off the beaten path and stopping for the night.

Clint had also relaxed somewhat which, for some reason, had made him clumsy, and now Bucky had an idea where the band-aids were coming from.

It somehow made him even more endearing.

Bucky groaned internally as they settled in for the night. He could _not_ afford to fall for a disaster who was already taken.

Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the smut scene can be read as Dom/sub but it wasn't written that way. i've never been in a relationship like that, i was just trying to portray more of Clint's anger and when i was done i was like, oh. well... um... again, it's ALL consensual, and things will start to soften up a bit between them soon. 
> 
> Since it wasn't intended that way, i'm not sure if i should put anything about dom/sub in the tags or not - what do you all think?


	6. Sharing is Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint has a moment and Bucky hopes it's the breakthrough he needs.

When they woke the next morning, Bucky found himself wrapped around Clint, their bodies fitted together near perfectly, despite Clint being a few inches taller than him. The man held himself small, Bucky had realized at some point during the trip with surprise. He could easily tower over Bucky if he felt inclined, not that Bucky would find that intimidating.

Probably.

They hadn’t even done anything last night, not like the two nights previous, but Bucky blushed anyway, even as Clint stammered and stumbled his way out of bed and into the bathroom. Still, Clint looked a little more rested, having slept in Bucky’s arms and Bucky resolved to make sure they got only one bed for future stops.

For Clint, of course.

He decidedly did _not_ think about how well _he’d_ slept with Clint in the bed beside him. Besides, it would save them money and Bucky had a hard time _not_ pinching pennies even when he was given unlimited funds.

Old habits died hard.

Neither spoke of it, of the cuddling, but the air in the car was a little lighter.

“Did the other Avengers know?” Bucky asked when they stopped for lunch. Maybe it was a mistake to ask, to bring up _her_ when they seemed to be working together somewhat companionably now, but it was that same shift in their dynamics that gave Bucky the push to bring it up at all.

“Know what?” Clint eyed him suspiciously.

“What Natalia _really_ meant to you?”

Clint’s eyes hardened and he looked away but he didn’t lash out the way he would have just a few days ago. Finally, he shook his head.

“No, I don’t think so. I think…” Clint toyed with the food on his plate. “Before Ultron, before I risked so much to bring them to the only safe place I could think of, I think they all thought Nat and I were sleeping together. But once they met Laura… they just assumed…”

“And you never corrected them,” Bucky said, rather than asked. Clint nodded anyway.

“It was easier that way. I hadn’t meant anyone to know my family existed. The only person who knew - besides those who helped me hide them – had been Nat, but that was different. That was because – “

“Because she was family too,” Bucky said, nodding. “So none of them know, none of them can comprehend, the depths of your grief. They keep pushing you – “

“ – they just keep pushing. But this…” Clint looked up at Bucky with haunted eyes. “This mess you see, it’s all you’re gonna get, all _they_ are going to get. I can’t put my all into everything anymore. I’m not whole. I’m… I’m not sure I ever was. I feel like I was only deluding myself, and without Nat to help shore up the pieces of me that are falling apart, Laura _can’t_ hold me together herself. And she shouldn’t have to.”

“Clint – “ Bucky reached for him, though he had no idea what to say. Clint’s words tore at him, reminded him of himself. He was doing better now but the bar for better was low. Not reverting to Winter Soldier programming or reflexes was sometimes all he could hope for. Peace of mind and dreamless nights was something else.

Frowning, Clint drew himself away, out of Bucky’s reach. “C’mon. We need to keep going. Those kids aren’t going to rescue themselves.”

Bucky let him have it. Instead, he joked, “Hey, you never know. Some of those kids are superheroes. They very well could.”

It got a weak smile from Clint so Bucky would count it as a win. It wasn’t near as good as he used to be, before the war and Hydra, he was still adjusting to _people_ again, but he was working on it. Maybe one day, he’d get there.

Steve probably wouldn’t be around to see it though.

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

They were back in the car when Clint broached a topic Bucky hadn’t expected the other man to bring up.

“I still can’t believe he did that to you,” Clint said, out of the blue. He was once more in the passenger seat, papers on his lap but ignored in favor of the arrow he was twirling around with his fingers.

Bucky swallowed. There was only one thing Clint could be talking about. “Steve had done enough, had enough heartache and grief. He deserved to live out his life in peace, with someone he loved.”

“And you don’t?” Clint demanded, his fingers stilling, the arrow skittering away. He turned to stare at Bucky. “Don’t _you_ deserve the same? Haven’t you been through just as much, or more?”

“Can’t be with the one you love when he doesn’t love you back, not the same way,” Bucky said. “And one of us being happy was better than both of us being miserable.”

Clint’s breath caught, then choked and alarmed, Bucky looked over. Clint was staring at him, wild-eyed but unseeing, his breath coming all too fast, anguish playing over his face.

Yanking the wheel, Bucky slid the car off onto the shoulder and slammed on the brakes. He turned to face Clint and took him by the shoulders. “Clint, look at me, _look_ at me,” Bucky said firmly. He let go briefly to snap his fingers in front of Clint’s eyes, using the metal hand to catch his attention and a louder noise.

Clint blinked and his eyes dragged to Bucky’s hand then back up as Bucky took hold of him again.

“Breathe with me,” Bucky said evenly, breathing in and out steadily. Clint’s breath stuttered a few times as it tried to match Bucky’s breathing and failed but then it lined up and Bucky relaxed minutely.

Then the tears started falling. Bucky shifted, catching a few with his hand as he wiped at Clint’s face. “It’s okay, I’m here. What’s going on? Can you talk to me?”

Clint shuddered, his eyes closing, his voice a broken whisper. “It should have been me. I tried, so hard, to make the sacrifice, but she did it, she refused to back down. It had to be one of us, but why her and not me? What made me so much more deserving?”

“I know, I know it isn’t fair,” Bucky crooned. Nobody really knew what happened on Vormir – or if they did, they hadn’t told him. But Clint and Nat had both gone, and only Clint had come back and he’d looked so damn _haunted_. Even though Bucky hadn’t known yet the reason why, the fact that something bad had gone down was all too clear. And now he was talking of sacrifices, and oh god, how could someone make that choice?

Bucky knew if it had been him and Steve, he’d have thrown himself away in a heartbeat in Steve’s place, before the self-sacrificing idiot could do it himself.

Fuck, had that been what happened?

“And sometimes I want so badly to just… lie down and not get back up but I _can’t_ because I can still see that look she’d give me when I disappointed her and I _can’t,”_ Clint choked.

Bucky’s blood ran cold. Was he talking of suicide? How close to this line had he been riding? For how long?

“Clint, are you… “ Bucky couldn’t ask. He’d faced down HYDRA, he fought back through decades of brainwashing and torture, he let Steve go, but this terrified him because it hit too close to home, and if Clint, with a loving family, couldn’t pull things together, how the hell was Bucky supposed to manage it? He was doing okay right now, but would he relapse?

“I didn’t deserve this chance. God, Bucky, it’s not even my second chance, I used that up long ago. I’ve lost count of how many ‘second chances’ I’ve had,” Clint said bitterly. “It should have been me that made the sacrifice, after everything I’ve done. I tried, but this has always been a part of me, this ruthless, dark piece of myself," Clint whispered raggedly. "And I called it to the surface when my family was taken and now... I don't know how to put it away."

This, Bucky knew something about. It was in Hawkeye’s file and he chose his words carefully.

"Seems to me, Loki called that dark part of you to the surface, and it made it easier for you to slide into it. You don't think I don't know how that is? I have reflexes born of years of work as the Winter Soldier. It takes a great deal of effort to keep them from taking over. But it can be done. Clint, it can be done," Bucky insisted. "I'm proof of it."

Clint shook his head. "No, no I’m too far gone... Nat shoulda let me go. I can’t be who I once was, not anymore."

_You and me both, pal,_ Bucky thought.

“Clint, think of your family. Think of Nat. She wouldn't want you to do this. If she sacrificed herself for you, for the stone –“ because what else could have happened? – “she wouldn’t want you to throw your life away. She did it for you, for your family. So, you could be together again,” Bucky said desperately.

“Screw that! It should have been _me_ who died on Vormir!” Clint spit out, shoving into Bucky’s space. Bucky braced himself against the seats, wedged as he was against the steering wheel. This damn car was too small.

This was Clint. And maybe finally Bucky was making a break through.

“Nat had just as much right to be here now as I do. More, even!” Clint shouted, voice and face filled with anguish and guilt. “She wasn’t tainted the way I allowed myself to be. And she was family, too. _We_ were her family. Not just the Avengers, or SHIELD. I mean me, and Laura and the children!”

Clint’s voice broke and he hit Bucky’s chest, tears streaming down his face. “All those people loved her just as much and were just as devastated by her loss as I was by theirs!”

He hit Bucky again but Bucky’s hands snapped up, catching Clint’s wrists in a firm grip.

“God, it should have been me. I’m poisoned, broken – Bucky, the things I did after Thanos… _Sh_ e should have lived, Bucky! Not me…” Voice trailing off in a broken whisper, Clint sagged in Bucky’s hold, his body colliding with Bucky’s as he sobbed. Bucky let go of Clint’s wrists, wrapped one arm around his waist, the other curled protectively over his head.

This was a long time coming, and it wouldn’t make things better, but maybe it would open things up for Clint, give him space to heal? Bucky just had to hope he didn’t make any missteps.

They stayed like that a long while, Clint hunched over the center console and draped over Bucky, clutching at him as if for dear life, like Bucky was an anchor he daren’t let go or he’d be cast adrift.

And if Clint was worried that he didn’t deserve another chance, Bucky was nearly certain he’d fuck up helping Clint realize the falsity of that.

If the Winter Soldier deserved another chance – as Steve had decided - if the Black Widow deserved one – as Clint had – then so, too, did Hawkeye.

And if Hawkeye _didn’t_ , then what did that mean for Bucky?

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

That had set the tone for the rest of the day, the air charged between them with words both spoken and not, as they chased fruitless leads from one town to the next, talking with people who’d never seen anything.

Once or twice a child had gone missing, but there’d been nothing notable about the circumstances and they couldn’t even be sure it was related to their mission. There was nothing to say it wasn’t, but they had no _real_ way of knowing.

They fell into bed, frustrated and exhausted, and Bucky woke, sometime in the night with a gasp, curled around Clint and hard against Clint’s hip – a fact that Clint had very obviously discerned as he shifted back against Bucky’s dick.

“You awake, Buck?” Clint asked softly.

For an answer, Bucky nuzzled into Clint’s neck and nodded. Clint reached back and laid his hand over Bucky’s arm.

“You want this?” Clint asked. It was the same question as the second time they’d done this, but the tone was different; gentler, more hesitant, a strange hitched quality to his voice that made Bucky frown, but any answer he could make, Clint wouldn’t hear. So he tightened his arms around Clint, thrusting lazily against his ass and kissed his neck. He bit down lightly, Clint making a smothered cry when he did.

Soothing it after with his tongue, Bucky continued to kiss and suck at Clint’s neck, the arm he had wrapped around Clint’s waist firming its grip, pulling him in tight. He eased a leg between Clint’s and delighted in the full body shudder from the archer when Bucky’s thigh brushed Clint’s cock.

This was good, he liked this, but he wanted to _see_ Clint’s face. Wanted to use this opportunity to show Clint it didn’t have to be rough and hard to be good. That he deserved – they both deserved – to allow themselves something _more._

Clint had to have known that once but he’d some how forgot in his need to punish himself.

Bucky pulled back, watching Clint shiver, heard the involuntary whine of protest and smirked before rolling Clint toward him, onto his back and settling above him lightly. Clint blinked up at him, sleepy and confused but definitely also aroused. Bucky shifted his hips to grind their cocks together and Clint’s eyes fluttered closed on a groan. There was a flush to his cheeks and his hair was mussed, his lips parted and he was beautiful.

So beautiful, Bucky couldn’t resist surging forward for a kiss. He teased Clint’s mouth first, chaste kisses and all too light licks till Clint was gasping and reaching for Bucky’s head and yanking him down.

But even then, Bucky kept control of the kiss, even as their lips slotted together, as their tongues danced and sent warmth rocketing down Bucky’s spine, he kept the kisses slow and deep and languid. Their hips rocked together and Bucky’s hands crept down to Clint’s waist, then lower, holding Clint still, then steady, slowing their grinding pace and keeping their desire at a warm, gentle simmer.

"C'mon, just fuck me already. You don't have to treat me so gently. I'm not gonna break," Clint growled, reaching for Bucky's shoulders, his fingers gripping hard but Bucky resisted.

Instead, he slid his hands up to grasp Clint's, threading they're fingers together and pulling Clint's arms to his sides. Bucky ghosted a kiss down Clint's chest and mouthed sweat soaked skin before leaning up enough for Clint to see his words clearly, "What if I want to?"

Clint gasped. It was almost a sob.

Bucky just continued kissing and lavishing care on Clint's scarred skin. Even with the scars, he was gorgeous as hell and Bucky could spend a long time worshipping this wonderful, broken man. Hell, all he wanted to do, more than anything he'd wanted in so damn long, was to try to put him back together, show him he deserved to be loved too – if not by Bucky, then at least by his wife and his kids, his friends.

Cause it was obvious with every action, every word, that Clint didn't believe it, even without his breakdown that afternoon.

Tracing his tongue along the skin of Clint’s abs, Bucky reveled in the twitches beneath him. Clint’s hands shifted in his, flexing uncertainly. Bucky lifted his head and stared up at Clint.

“You matter,” he said softly, making sure Clint was watching him, pressing a kiss to their clasped hands. “You deserve to be loved,” he said, pressing a kiss to the join of their other hands. “You _are_ loved.”

“No, Bucky,” Clint whimpered. His head shook, his eyes closed tight, his chest heaved as his breath came too fast. Tears leaked from the corners of Clint’s eyes, rolling down the sides of his face.

Bucky kissed his way back up Clint’s chest, his heart stuttering in his chest at the vulnerability laid out beneath him. He let go of Clint’s hands and cupped his face, Clint blinking his eyes open to stare at Bucky with shining eyes and a trembling lip.

“ _Yes._ You’re selfless. You’re compassionate. You’re patient. You’re good with children and they _love_ you. They know instinctively you’ll protect them with your last breath.” He ached to give Clint more kisses, but he _wanted – needed –_ Clint to know his words. One thumb rubbed along Clint’s cheek brushing softly at the scruff he’d been too lazy to shave, the other slid along Clint’s bottom lip, ghosting over the flesh so softly, Bucky could feel the trembling against the pad of his thumb.

Clint shivered.

“Just as you would help and protect anyone else. It’s what made you an Avenger.”

Shaking, a sob broke free from Clint and Bucky turned him on to his side, curling back around Clint. He held Clint close, his hand soothing through Clint’s hair, down his neck and back up again, careful to avoid his ears.

Clint rolled in his arms, a tentative hand reaching out, fingers questing over Bucky’s face. His eyes closed at the gentle touch, leaning into Clint’s hand. He heard a gasp, and when he opened his eyes, Clint was staring at him sadly – and determined.

There were no more words then, their lips meeting once again.

They still worked themselves closer to orgasm, but Clint didn’t push it, didn’t ask for it to be hard or rough. He let Bucky touch him softly, he let Bucky caress his sweat soaked skin and in turn, Clint’s long fingers were a brand over Bucky’s flesh, mapping every inch slowly. He traced over Bucky’s scars the same as Bucky had done to him, they kissed for what seemed like ages, their need a steady, warm presence with occasionally sharp sparks of pleasure as they moved together.

Sucking at Clint’s neck – it seemed an altogether sensitive part of him and it made Bucky’s toes curl to hear how much Clint _enjoyed_ that – Bucky finally moved his hands down to their boxers and pushed slowly, wriggling against Clint to help maneuver their boxers down their legs, first Bucky’s then Clint’s.

They shared a mutual groan of pleasure at the first contact of their hard, hot cocks sliding together.

Bucky had no idea how long they’d been doing this slow dance, but he felt no need to rush anything, pressing Clint down into the mattress carefully as they rutted together in the softest, gentlest grind Bucky had ever gotten off to.

He hadn’t even known it was possible, and yet, they spilled near as one, their fingers tangled in each other’s hair, slick bodies pressed close together, swallowing the other’s cry as they came in panting breaths.

They shuddered through the aftershocks that rolled over them in small waves, Bucky’s face pressed into Clint’s neck.

He was losing himself in one, Clint Barton, and Bucky had no idea what to do about that, except… he didn’t want to fight it. He wanted to enjoy this, whatever this was, as long as he could before it, too, was taken away from him, just like everything else inevitably was.

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

They had a false start the next morning, for more reasons than one.

Clint was up first, almost skittering around Bucky, way more tentative than Bucky liked. Clint was pretending that nothing had happened, that everything was normal as they changed and gathered their things.

Bucky debated saying something – _anything_ – but what would he say? He was afraid that anything he _did_ say would make Clint even more skittish, more determined to forget what had happened between them.

But there was something there, right? Was Bucky imagining things, was he falling too hard again for someone who couldn’t? Or were they just using each other as convenient release?

He swallowed thickly. He knew what he wanted, but he also knew what was the most likely.

Giving himself a shake, Bucky gave Clint his space, allowed him to set the pace of their morning.

And then they stepped outside and swore. Both of them were instantly on alert, scanning their surroundings but there was nothing in sight – except their car, looking a little more than worse for wear, covered in webbing.

How it hadn’t drawn attention Bucky didn’t know, though the early hour may have accounted for that.

Clint squatted by the car and leaned in closer to the webs, reaching a hand out. Bucky snapped out his hand and grabbed his wrist, pulling him away. Clint frowned up at him.

Shaking his head, Bucky said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Wilson and I got webbed by that kid once and the stuff is strong and stickier than you could believe.”

Nodding, Clint backed away and heaved out a sigh. “Still know where we are then, and we’re no closer to finding them then we were before.”

“I’m more curious as to why _this_ is all they did,” Bucky said, gesturing at the car. “Peter’s strong. Brainwashed as he is, if he was ordered to kill us while we were sleeping, he wouldn’t hesitate to try.”

“Unless…” Clint said softly, his eyes going wide.

“Unless the brainwashing isn’t absolute and he’s fighting back,” Bucky said, grinning. “These kids may have some hope yet.”

Clint’s eyes closed, relief and hope flooding his face before turning to face Bucky. “I’ll let you deal with this, since you’ve seen it before. I’ll scout around, see if he’s still here.”

Bucky nodded and watched him go before putting his attention back to the webs. If he was careful, a sharp edge could take care of this before Clint came back. Of course, by the time he cleared enough of it off, Bucky was swearing for a different reason entirely.

“Well, damn,” Clint said from his side as they both stared at their slashed tires. “That’s going to slow us a bit.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, opened his mouth – and Clint’s phone rang.

Clint and Bucky exchanged looks, because both of them knew this was _not_ going to go well. Clint answered the phone, and Bucky stood close, his sharp hearing enough to catch the other end of the conversation without Clint having to risk speakerphone in public.

“Barton,” Clint said, as nonchalantly as if they hadn’t just discovered they were currently stranded here. Bucky almost snorted as Hill talked, giving them their newest bearing. “Right, we’ll get right on that – as soon as we replace the car.”

Bucky winced as Hill squawked, easily heard even with _out_ Super Soldier hearing. Clint waited patiently for her to stop before he continued. “It was Peter, so we’re close. Don’t worry, we got this,” Clint said, hanging up.

He stared at Bucky.

Bucky stared back and then they both turned to the car. He had this sinking feeling that they didn’t, in fact, have this.

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

It took the better part of the morning to get a tow and their tires replaced. The town they’d stopped in was too small to even have a rental and Bucky sat in the waiting room anxiously as Clint paced outside, occasionally coming in to sit down for about five minutes before he was up and moving again.

It was a contrast to the Clint in the car. No, Bucky corrected himself. No, actually, Clint _always_ fidgeted, this was just a lot more full bodied than what he got up to in the car. How the hell had the man been a sniper if he couldn’t keep still?

Must be all that damn coffee he drank.

Bucky had a feeling Clint would drink more if they stayed someplace longer than five minutes. But the car wasn’t a quinjet or a helicarrier and Clint couldn’t just pop off to grab a mug anytime he wanted.

They spent at least part of their wait at yet another diner, getting the breakfast they’d almost skipped in their haste to get out of the hotel.

Or had that been Clint’s haste to get away from Bucky?

Something had changed last night, and he knew that had been on him.

Bucky shook it off, heading for the car as soon as the mechanic had given him the all clear.

“I can drive, you know,” Clint muttered as Bucky walked around him to the drivers’ side. Bucky froze. Clint was right, he didn’t _have_ to drive the whole time. It was just… easier for him.

Under Hydra, he hadn’t really cared or given his transportation much thought. He was ferried where he needed to be, aimed and let go. But the further away from their control he’d gotten, the more gunshy he’d been about letting others take control of where he was going or where he’d been.

With his therapists help he’d been getting better about it, but some things were harder to ease up on than other. He avoided trains and taxis straight up – trains still featured in a lot of his nightmares and there were way too many strangers driving a taxi for him to even use the techniques his therapist had suggested.

Flying was torture, but it wasn’t like _he_ knew how to fly. It had taken some doing, but he’d worked with his therapist and Sam and now he was able to step inside a quinjet and turn off the part of his brain that demanded _he_ fly.

And normally, he avoided the car issue by walking or using his motorcycle.

Or taking the keys before someone else could.

But Clint was right. The smart thing would be to trade on and off. With a swallow of trepidation, he tossed the keys at Clint, gaining a bright smile in return. It nearly melted Bucky right then and there, almost soothed his uneasiness rocketing through him.

It wasn’t easy.

He clutched at the seat with his metal hand and the door handle with his right. He found himself reaching for the handle above his head at almost every turn, every brake of the car, but he forced himself back.

Clint didn’t need to know this was freaking him out. It wasn’t Clint’s driving it was just that _Bucky_ wasn’t driving.

He made it an hour before Clint started looking at him suspiciously. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky said tightly, waving him off.

“You’re not fine,” Clint scoffed. “You’re paler than normal and you’re gonna break the car if you keep that up.”

Clint wasn’t even _looking_ at him. How the fuck did _he_ know that Bucky’s hand was white knuckling the car door? Had he heard the creaking leather of the seats under his metal hand? Just how good were those aids anyway?

Bucky stared at him, thoughts whirling about, then he shrugged and looked away. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll be fine. Just keep driving.”

“You sure? If this makes you uncomfortable – “ Clint said, his words sounding careful, picked over.

“I’ll get over it. It’s not you, Clint,” Bucky insisted. “I just… need time. Exposure therapy, or something. It’s why I can get into the jet when Sam flies it. Took some time, but it’s perfectly normal.”

“Maybe so,” Clint said slowly. “But I bet when you worked on it with Sam, you weren’t in the middle of a mission.”

“No, we weren’t,” Bucky conceded. His ears caught the click of the blinker and he turned to face Clint. “What are you doing?”

“I’m pulling over and we’re switching,” Clint said. “You can’t be this keyed up on a mission. Not like that. We can work on this after, but for now…” the car rumbled to a stop on the shoulder, rattling as it went over those stupid strips that always set Bucky’s nerves on edge.

Clint put the car in park, unclipped his seatbelt and checked for cars before pushing his door open, leaving the car idling. Bucky stared, watching him cross in front of the car.

Something had changed between them. Clint was pragmatic, yeah, but he wasn’t this… this soft? No, that wasn’t the right word. Bucky was still struggling to figure it out when Clint leaned on the car and ducked his head to look in through the open window.

“Well?”

Bucky nodded jerkily. “Get back so I can open the door,” he said, his voice coming out gruffer than he intended. Clint grinned and stepped back.

Within moments, Bucky was back behind the wheel, the car was pulling back out onto the highway and he was left wondering –

Something _had_ changed, what did that mean for _him?_

Exactly how much heartache was he going to finish this mission in?

He was definitely scared to find out.


	7. In the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky wakes from a nightmare to Clint's comfort but all too soon, they learn Katie's no longer safe at the tower...

This time, when Bucky woke up with a start, his heart racing, his eyes glancing around frantically in the dark, it wasn't Clint Barton’s fault. Not directly. Tonight’s nightmare had consisted of losing Steve, over and over.

It had started out nice enough, a warm memory from before the war, before Steve had changed, the two of them spending Buck's last night together. It had been bittersweet and filled with the promises neither of them dared to say aloud, but the dream had turned, taking Steve away from him, had replayed that day on the helicarrier when Steve had just _let_ Bucky at him.

He'd had this nightmare before, many times, and you’d think he’d have gotten used to it, inured by the repetition, but nothing seemed to soften the grief and fear and helplessness as he delivered the killing blow, unable to stop his hands from moving; watched Steve’s face cave in with that stupid look full of absolute trust as he gazed up at Bucky, not raising a fucking finger.

And then Steve’s face had morphed into Clint’s and he’d jerked violently awake, a shout of anguish and denial escaping his lips.

It took Bucky too long to realize he was breathing hard and that Clint was sat up beside him, his hands on Bucky's shoulders, their heads touching. It was grounding, pulling him out of the nightmare faster than he usually was capable of. He was still unsettled but Clint’s presence, his touch, helped. 

"I got ya, Bucky," Clint was murmuring. "Not alone, man." Clint's words broke with a yawn and instantly, Bucky felt guilty. In the short amount of time they'd been working together, he was certain he'd gotten more sleep than Clint had, and to think he'd disturbed what little Clint had been getting...

"'m sorry," he muttered. Clint didn't respond, of course he didn't, but Bucky's breath evened out and he closed his eyes, just concentrating on matching Clint. He'd been shaking, he suddenly realized.

Clint pulled away some. "Shit dreams, right?" he said sympathetically. His lips twisted up in a wry, commiserating smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Those looked as haunted as Bucky felt. “Can’t help those.”

Bucky gave a half shrug, half shudder and a wry smile. "Got plenty of fodder."

Clint snorted softly, eyes tracking Bucky’s lips. "Yeah, you more than most.”

“I think it might be an Avenger pre-qualification,” Bucky said shakily, attempting to lighten the mood.

It must have worked because Clint barked out a light but emphatic, “Too fuckin’ right, bro,” Followed by “Wanna talk about it?” The question was much more hesitantly offered but Bucky could sense the sincerity behind it, even as he shook his head, tucking himself into Clint’s neck.

Clint drew him back down to the bed and wrapped himself around Bucky. With Clint soothing him, Bucky eventually fell back asleep.

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

Fury called himself to tell them Katie had gone missing from the tower.

“How?” Clint asked, his voice tight. Bucky glanced away from the road to see Clint’s pale face. He just knew Clint was blaming himself for Katie having gotten kidnapped because they hadn’t found Carmody or the woman responsible yet.

Bucky wanted Clint to put it on speaker, but he knew Clint had trouble with that, so he didn’t ask. His own fingers gripped the wheel tightly. Clint might not be the only one blaming himself, even though Bucky knew that it wasn’t his or Clint’s fault.

Clint sighed and dropped his head against the seat after the call ended, pinching the bridge of his nose, squawking when he pinched the gash he’d covered with a band aid.

Bucky still wasn’t sure where it had come from. He was positive it hadn’t been there when they’d woken up.

“Well?” Bucky asked impatiently.

“From the surveillance, she broke out on her own. Could have done it anytime,” Clint said. “Sam wasn’t wrong about her. She just… went right through everything - Locks, doors, even walls if necessary – by disintegrating them. And anyone who came after her, she shot with some sort of energy blast, though she was careful enough not to actually hit anyone.”

“They didn’t think to gas her?” Bucky asked.

Clint stared at him in horror. “You don’t _gas_ a kid!”

Bucky shrugged. “Normally, I’d agree, but it doesn’t sound like there’s much that could stop her without actually hurting her, and I’m not about hurting any kids.”

“We just need to find these fucking asses so the kids can go home safe,” Clint said after a frustrated groan. Bucky knew how he felt. Right now, everything was a wild goose chase and nothing they did seem to get them any closer to their actual targets.

Just their ‘minions’.

They stopped for lunch long enough for Clint to call home unheard while Bucky gassed up the car, and then they got back on the road, grabbing take out on the way.

Soon enough, they lost the signal again and were forced to stop. Each delay, each setback, was making Bucky wonder if they truly were the best choices for the mission. Clint was opening up and relaxing more and you’d think that would be a good thing, but it also allowed Bucky to see how much more this was eating at him than he’d been letting on.

It was painful to watch, and he feared that if it went on too much longer, Clint might implode and take Bucky with him.

It was nearing dark when they pulled off at the next exit instead of the usual rest area, this time using a safehouse Clint knew of that they were lucky to be near. They were starting to wonder if staying in a motel where they could easily be found was a good idea – especially if any civilians were about. They didn’t want any casualties first and foremost and having innocent bystanders nearby would up the chances of that.

And it had occurred to _someone_ that footage of _any_ of the Avengers fighting children would be bad publicity.

Turned out to be good thinking.

Bucky and Clint had barely gotten their things out of the car, Clint unlocking the safehouse door, when something just on the edge of his senses caused Bucky to move, shoving Clint to the side and covering him.

Bucky frowned, Clint going still beneath him as both of them scanned the tree line, the sky, the dirt road they’d just trudged up -

There was a rainbow streak, then their car moved, picked up by a freaking _kid_ like it weighed nothing and then it was coming straight for Bucky and Clint.

They dove away from the door - and each other so they didn’t tangle together – and the car smashed through the door and into the house, splinters of wood hitting the ground around them.

Clint grunted – fuck, had he been hit? Bucky wanted to turn and check on Clint but couldn’t. Katie’s eldest brother, Alex, was picking up the damned car _again_ and lobbing it at Bucky, leaving Clint to deal with Julie, the elder sister.

At least, as far as Bucky had been able to get from Katie, Julie wasn’t very offensive, just really fast. Hopefully Clint could tangle her in a net or something. If either of them had to deal with a kid who could lob cars like a water balloon, better it be Bucky.

He ducked as the car went flying over his head again and swore. The kid was strong because he could affect gravity – but what did Bucky dare do in return? Could the kid take a hit? Praying he’d pulled his punch enough, Bucky swung at the kid – and it didn’t even fucking matter cause the damn kid caught his fist and flung Bucky high, tossing him into the side of the house.

Bucky coughed as the dust settled around him. He stood, made his way to the now gaping hole and looked out. Alex was floating just below him, reaching for Clint who was busy lining up a shot with Julie, and Bucky leapt with a growl, his stomach twisted in knots.

Clint couldn’t take the same punishment that Bucky could.

He landed on Alex, having a midair tussle as Bucky struggled to pin the kids arms to his sides, hoping he could subdue and tie him down to _something._

“Just… stop, kid. No one wants to get hurt,” Bucky grunted.

“Alex!” Julie shouted, panicked. Bucky couldn’t look, but he hoped that meant Clint had managed to contain her. Julie’s shout seemed only to spur Alex’s efforts and Bucky’s own were still hindered by the fact that he had to constantly keep in mind how dangerous his little souvenir from HYDRA was, mindful of how much damage it could do to the kid. So it was embarrassingly easy for Alex to slip out of his grip and toss Bucky off, letting gravity do the rest.

Bucky plummeted, the ground rushing in fast. When had they gotten so high up? He flipped himself, managing to tuck and roll as he hit the ground, Clint’s wordless shout finally reaching him.

Shaking himself, Bucky sprung up to find Alex tearing Julie free of the net Clint had sprung on her, having had the foresight to pin her to the railing.

In seconds, though, Julie was free of the banister and she was scooping Alex up in her arms and taking off. Bucky chased after on reflex before coming to his senses. She was too fast and they were obviously not coming back for another attack.

Alex could have really hurt them, Bucky realized, constrained as they were. They needed new tactics.

He gave up the chase and returned to the safehouse, swearing under his breath, he found Clint looking at the wreckage Alex had left behind, hands on his hips.

“Well… Fury’s never gonna lend us a car again, at this rate,” he said.

“ _That’s_ your concern?” Bucky bit out. “They got away – _again!”_

“You think I don’t _know_ that?” Clint growled back, turning to face Bucky, a hand running over his tired face, anguish he wasn’t allowing to show in his features all too clear in his eyes, and Bucky instantly felt guilty.

He knew what Clint was pushing through, how close to home this was all hitting. Clint really didn’t need Bucky shoving more shit on top.

_Dammit._

He stomped over to their bags and picked them up, shouldering one and tossing the other at Clint. “Let’s go. We need to find alternative transportation.”

“Stealth jet would be nice,” Clint muttered, shifting the bag about so it wouldn’t get in the way of his bow. He caught up with Bucky fairly quickly.

Bucky snorted. “If we’re this hard on cars, Fury will _never_ give us a stealth jet,” Bucky said, letting a bit of humor creep in. Clint actually laughed at that and Bucky felt a grin slide over his face. He’d made Clint laugh. That… actually felt really good.

Clint sighed. “Buck, we can’t go anywhere right now. We stopped here for a reason and we won’t be able to replace the car at this time of night. All these towns are too fucking small to have anything useful open 24/7 except the occasional diner. Might as well see what’s left behind and get some sleep.”

“So much for your safe house,” Bucky said as they turned back to face the two-story house that now had two giant gaping holes. One car sized and one Bucky sized. “Not sure it’s gonna be _safe_ to go in there.”

“Yeah, that didn’t go well,” Clint agreed. Turning back to Bucky, his face paled. “Buck, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Bucky said, frowning at Clint in confusion.

“You’re not fine,” Clint growled, stalking toward him. “You’re bleeding.”

“I _am_ fine,” Bucky insisted. Sure, he had some aches from going through a wall and from being dropped from up high but knock off serum or not, those aches weren’t all that bad and besides – “Super soldier serum, remember? Any injuries will be gone soon enough.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to stand there bleeding all over everything,” Clint shot back. “C’mon, I have a first aid kit in my bags and something tells me we’ve got a bit of time before we need to worry about our next ‘encounter,” he said.

Bucky shrugged. He had a point, and if they were going to replace their car, they’d have to walk into town. Better not to do that looking like they’d been up to no good. He followed Clint into the safehouse, past the wreckage the car had made and into the back end which was still, miraculously, standing and clear of debris.

He wondered if the shower was working.

The front half of the house had been a kitchen and a side room, the back end held a long living room, a set of stairs and a door leading elsewhere which turned out to be the bathroom. The living room was sparsely decorated – a single, dilapidated couch by which they dumped their bags and a rickety coffee table.

“Sit,” Clint ordered. Instinctively, seeing the worry on Clint’s face, Bucky did, watching Clint’s shoulders relax minutely when he did. Clint returned with a bowl of water, kneeling beside Bucky and digging out the first aid kit.

He worked in silence, Bucky watching Clint with wonder. There was a worried sort of caring on the archer’s face, something… something tender Bucky hadn’t expected to see aimed at him ever again. It made his heart skip a beat because surely he was seeing things?

But he really hoped he wasn’t.

“You matter too,” Clint said softly, as he finished laying the last of the bandages on Bucky’s arm.

Bucky snorted. “To who? I ain’t the one who’s got family.” He winced as soon as he said the words. He hadn’t meant for them to sound so bitter and he sagged a little. “Sorry.”

Clint’s hands paused, one coming up to grip Bucky’s flesh shoulder and squeeze it lightly. “Don’t be sorry, Buck, I get it. But you’re wrong, you _do_ matter. And maybe…” But Clint stopped, shook his head and tucked in the edges of the last bandage before he started packing things up.

By the time Clint had finished patching up Bucky, night had well and truly fallen. With that morning’s delay, more fruitless detours, lost signals and now this…

The day really had been a total waste, hadn’t it?

When he stood, Bucky caught his arm. Clint looked down at him, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What is it?”

“What about you? You hurt?” Bucky had been scanning Clint up and down but couldn’t see anything obvious. But he recalled a moment during the fight when Clint had made a sound that Bucky had been heart stoppingly sure meant the archer was hurt.

Was he hiding it? Steve would do it, without even a second thought, just so Bucky wouldn’t worry. God, he hoped Clint wasn’t doing that. He couldn’t take it if Clint did that to him too.

Clint shook his head. “Strained muscle, maybe.” He placed his hands behind his back and stretched backwards over the clasped hands, cracking his back. “Lower back, from diving out of the way of that car. I’m getting too old for this if I strained a muscle,” Clint sighed.

“I could…” Bucky swallowed. This was, what he was about to offer, somehow more intimate than some of the things they’d done before. “I could massage it.”

“Nah, bro, you don’t need to do that,” Clint protested.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Don’t play macho with me, doll. If you can fix me up, then I should be allowed to return the favor – not because I owe you, but because I _want_ to.”

Clint still hesitated but then he nodded. _What was Clint thinking?_ Bucky wondered.

“Yeah, okay, but let’s eat something first. I’ll check to see if anything survived the kitchen getting destroyed, you check upstairs?”

Bucky nodded and watched Clint disappear towards the front of the house before heaving himself up off the couch and up the stairs, carefully testing them before going up. The safehouse had probably been structurally sound – before someone started tossing cars and Bucky through it.

Thankfully, the stairs _were_ fine.

The second floor, now that he wasn’t picking himself up out of its rubble, consisted of a large front room – now trashed, obviously - a closet, then a second bathroom and two more rooms in the back, both of which looked a bit dusty but usable.

Only one had a bed, though.

Not that Bucky minded that. They’d _already_ been sharing, so he didn’t think Clint did either, just as long as it was big enough for the both of them, which it looked like it would be, though barely.

 _Cuddling was definitely in the cards tonight_ , Bucky thought with a wry shake of his head as he checked over the room and tested the lights, a small flutter in his gut at the thought of cuddling. He returned downstairs to get their things and bring them back up, then started searching the house for candles.

Clint may have really good eyes – he’d have to, to be that good of a shot – but he didn’t have super night vision like Bucky did. There was rarely a circumstance he encountered that left him completely blind – unless it was _too_ bright out, his eyes become oversensitive.

He joined Clint in the kitchen as the first logical place for his search, finding Clint swearing at the stove. He looked up when Bucky joined him. “Sure you’ve noticed already,” Clint said, nodding at the light switch, “No electricity, and I already checked the breakers. I think the kid busted something.”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “Thought I’d grab some candles for upstairs. You got any here?”

Clint pointed and Bucky grunted, stepping through the debris carefully. He put his hand on the partially hanging door under the sink and pulled it completely off it’s hinges and knelt down, rummaging for the candles and something to light it with.

“You breakin’ my house?” Clint asked, shaking his head, but there was a grin on his face.

“Just cleaning up the mess,” Bucky said, smirking back at Clint.

“Well, anyway, ‘fraid we got shit for food,” Clint said. “Less you wanna make a fire and cook that way. Otherwise, it’s stale crackers and anything we brought with us.” He shook a box of saltines at Bucky.

“Fuck. I could forgive the kid for tossing me through a house but taking out the food supply is going too far,” Bucky joked.

Clint rolled his eyes. “Hey, I’m hungry too.”

“What are our options if we _did_ go through the trouble of a fire?” Bucky asked, ripping into the saltines.

“Beans.” Clint said with a near straight face. Bucky groaned. “No, but seriously, the pantry seems to have made it, and the thing is stacked with MRE’s, so we’ll be fine. No need to set anything on fire. You can thank past Clint for the foresight.”

“What if I _wanted_ to set something on fire?” Bucky tossed back.

Clint snorted. “Maybe later, if you’ve really got your heart set on it.”

Bucky shook his head, the strange, joking mood he had going with Clint was nice – unexpected, but nice. It reminded him a little of the Clint he’d met briefly, years ago, of the Clint that he’d been told stories about and it made him smile as they ate the MRE’s beside each other on the couch. It was stronger than it looked, more than its appearances would give, and he thought idly that it was the same with Clint, with him – things and people weren’t always what they seemed, weren’t always what they showed to the world.

Before long they’d migrated upstairs, Clint taking a shower while Bucky set up the candles and changed before taking the sheets and blankets off the bed and giving them a good, vigorous shake in another room before returning to remake their bed and get it ready.

Opening his duffle bag, he pulled out a bottle of oil. It was standard issue in the kit, though Bucky didn’t usually use it but now he was grateful they had it.

Clint appeared in the doorway, shirtless, loose pants riding low and barefoot as he toweled his hair dry.

Even though Bucky had already seen him in just as little, and less, his mouth went dry. He cleared his throat and gestured to the bed. “Why don’t you uh, lay down so I can start?”

Even in the dim candle light, Bucky could see Clint’s eyebrows go up and his mouth quirk up. “Little eager, are we?”

“Just lay on the damn bed, doll,” Bucky said with exasperation, hoping Clint couldn’t see the blush that had risen over his cheeks and figured his chances were good, what with candlelight all Clint had to work with.

Clint sauntered over, dropped the towel to the floor and flashed Bucky a smirk before laying himself out on his stomach, cradling his head on his arms. Bucky could see the hint of the aids in his ears and wondered what that meant, that he’d put them back in after his shower instead of making himself comfortable for bed.

Then Clint shifted to look behind him. “Well? There a problem?”

“Not at all,” Bucky said, moving to kneel on the bed, bracketing Clint’s legs with his own. He poured the oil into his hand and rubbed his hands together with a smile before bringing them down over the muscles of Clint’s back, sliding up his spine and back again, spreading the oil.

Clint let out a low groan as Bucky gently pressed his fingers into Clint’s flesh. He worked over Clint’s entire back, but focused on the tight muscles just above his ass, Clint making the most wondrous sounds.

Bucky tried to ignore them, and how hard he was getting. This wasn’t about him; it was about Clint. He dug his fingers in, watching Clint’s back shift, his muscles gleaming in the candlelight. He could see the scars that littered his back as much as they had his front and Bucky wanted to kiss each one of them.

Wanted to show Clint the gentleness he was deserving of.

He held himself back, working his hands up in a long, sweeping caress, feeling Clint shift and move under him. Bucky bit his lip to hold in his moan and he let out a soft gasp when Clint didn’t, when Clint rocked up, his ass brushing Bucky’s dick.

Clint shifted again, moving his arms and bracing his elbows and did it again. Bucky’s hands stuttered on Clint’s back and his breathing hitched at the agonizingly light touch.

There was a chuckle beneath him, and breathless words as Clint spoke, his voice barely breaking the night. “Please,” he said. “I need you…” Clint rocked back with a little more force. “Think you need me too.”

Bucky bowed, his head hitting the center of Clint’s back with a deep groan, his hips snapping forward to meet Clint’s ass without thought. “Fuck…”

“Yeah, exactly,” Clint said. “C’ _mon_ , Buck.”

Closing his eyes, Bucky dragged his still clothed cock over Clint’s ass a few times, mouthing at the wide spread of Clint’s shoulders, sliding his hands along Clint’s ribs, then back down to his hips.

He opened them again, to watch his progress, to see up close every bit of flexing muscle and skin, licking and biting his way down in agonizingly slow increments.

Clint was cursing by the time Bucky reached the waist band of his sweatpants. He leaned back a little to watch his fingers grasp the pants and slowly pull them down, revealing the globes of Clint’s ass. Bucky’s breath caught at his first glimpse and he couldn’t help reaching for Clint’s flesh even before he’d managed to finish sliding the pants off.

Grasping one cheek in each hand, Bucky pulled and pushed, biting his lip as Clint rocked back into his hands with loud groan and a muttered curse. Spreading his cheeks, Bucky stared at Clint’s hole, at the furled flesh, letting a thumb slip down to scrape over it lightly, teasingly. Clint made a strangled sound and Bucky did it again.

“Fuck, doll, you want me that much? Want me inside you?”

“Yes, please, Bucky,” Clint gasped.

Fingers already slick, Bucky circled Clint’s rim, listened to his eager, desperate sounds and finally slipped the tip of one finger in. Clint clenched around his finger, his hips moved, trying to pull Bucky inside deeper and Bucky groaned, watching it.

Watching Clint.

Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off from where his finger was disappearing into Clint, adding a second quickly and easily, his cock throbbing with the need to replace those fingers. He bit his much abused lip again, watching Clint push back on his fingers. He nudged deeper, leaning down to bite lightly at Clint’s hipbones as his fingers found Clint’s prostate, his other shoving at his own sleep pants and boxers, knuckles grazing his hard shaft.

Clint shouted and jerked. “Fuck, Bucky, _please_!”

Thrusting his fingers a few times, Bucky laid open mouth kisses over Clint’s hips, his back and down before pulling away and sitting up, leaving Clint empty. He found the abandoned bottle of oil and opened it, slicking up his cock. Clint twisted under him, grabbed Bucky’s head and yanked him down into a deep, dirty kiss that made Bucky’s toes curl and the bottle drop from suddenly fumbling fingers.

“Roll over, babe,” Clint gasped. “Wanna ride you.”

 _Oh fuck. Oh, hell yes._ Bucky gripped Clint, flipping them and kicking his pants off the rest of the way as Clint settled above him. Bucky stared up at him, eyes sliding over Clint’s naked body, and shivered in anticipation.

Grasping Bucky’s cock, Clint shifted, dragging the tip of Bucky’s dick over his hole. Bucky groaned and arched up, chasing after as Cint chuckled and lifted just out of reach.

“I can tease too, you know,” Clint said, pressing a hand over Bucky’s chest, flicking a nipple with his thumb. Bucky arched up again with a gasp. “How sensitive _are_ you?” He flicked his thumb again, the leaned down to suck the other nipple into his lips.

“Clint!” Bucky groaned, “Fuck, doll, ya gotta – “ he couldn’t help the whine that came out of his mouth when Clint sunk down on his cock, enveloping him in slick, tight heat.

Letting go, Clint placed his other hand on Bucky’s’ chest and rocked downward, slowly, then up just as slowly. Bucky stared up at him wonderingly, mouth open, heedless of the sounds he made as Clint took him deep, bouncing on Bucky’s dick.

Bucky’s fingers wandered over Clint’s stomach, explored the sensitivity of his chest, caressed the archer’s biceps with awe, before settling on Clint’s hipbones and urging him faster.

“God, you feel so good,” Bucky breathed, unable to take his eyes off the pure pleasure claiming Clint’s face. Clint bent over to capture Bucky’s lips and Bucky’s hand slid around to Clint’s ass. Spreading his legs wide and bracing his feet, Bucky thrust up and swallowed Clint’s shout in a kiss.

The pace picked up then, still deep, but not as rough as they had been with each other the other night, as Clint had been with Bucky. Bucky liked it hard and rough as much as the next person, maybe more, sometimes, but there was a time and place for that, and this moment was something else, something… something _more._

Bucky’s fingers flexed, pulling Clint in tighter, closer, as their tongues tangled, their hips rocked together. Clint gasped and swore with every thrust as Bucky groaned, words spilling unbidden and unheard from his tongue, both of them chasing ecstasy, chasing completion.

Clint came first, untouched between them, clenching down on Bucky’s cock with a shout he buried in Bucky’s neck, the vibration of his words making Bucky shudder. Bucky’s hips stuttered and then he slammed upwards, a final jerk, before he spilled inside of Clint.

They lay there, panting hard, Clint sprawled out naked and sweaty over Bucky’s chest, Bucky’s metal arm laying atop Clint’s lower back, keeping him from rolling away and off the bed. Bucky’s fingers moved in circles, pressing into the dip there lazily. He hummed in contentment, his eyes closing sleepily, then popping back open when Clint chuckled and shifted.

“What?” Bucky drawled out, instantly wary.

“D’ya realize,” Clint slurred, an amused smile on his face. “That you called me doll?”

“No, I didn’t,” Bucky protested, freezing. _Fuck, had he?_

“Yeah, you did. More than once, Buck,” Clint said smugly.

Bucky swallowed, his eyes wide. He hadn’t realized… had he gone too far? Was Clint mad at him? Pet names like this was a step closer to the feelings he didn’t want to admit he could easily develop for Clint.

Clint reared up suddenly, just enough to hover over Bucky and look him in the eyes. One hand came up to cradle Bucky’s unshaved jaw gently, a thumb rubbing along his cheekbone. “Hey, hey, no, it’s okay, Buck. I liked it. Just… wasn’t sure you were aware of it, or not.”

Part of Bucky wanted to look away, to turn his head and make Clint’s hand drop away while the other part - the part that moved without him asking - closed his eyes and leaned into Clint’s touch, his lips parted on a soft sound, a small gasp.

Clint’s other hand came up to match the first and he leaned down to touch their foreheads together. “It’s okay, Bucky,” he whispered. “We’re okay.”

They rolled together to their sides, Bucky’s dick slipping free, tangling their sweaty limbs together, both of them clutching at each other like a lifeline.

They fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other, breathing each other’s air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why yes, Clint calls Bucky out on calling him doll a few times  
> but no, Bucky's not noticed Clint called him babe...  
> hopefully you, dear reader, _did_ notice ;D


	8. Third Times the Charm?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Bucky lose another car but gain a few allies...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GISH started yesterday (formerly known as GishWhes - the Greatest international Scavenger Hunt the World Has Ever Seen) and I've already tried to make a pizza fly (i was unsuccessful. i'm going back to the drawing board) but that DOES mean I'm going to be busy doing Scavenger hunt stuff for the next week. so i'm not sure when the next update will go up, but i'll try not to let it be too big of a delay, okay folks?

They woke early the next morning, Clint joining Bucky in the shower without even discussing it first, simply appearing at the curtain a moment after Bucky had stepped under the spray. As Bucky had insisted, his wounds were already gone, and Clint was running his hands over where they should have been and shaking his head.

“Should be used to that by now,” Clint said softly, the pounding of the water nearly drowning out his words.

They barely kept their hands off each other otherwise. Bucky didn’t know about Clint, but he found it difficult to do. Still, they managed, too aware of the urgency of their mission to dilly dally, especially when they had a long walk back to the nearest town if they were going to get a new car.

They timed it perfectly, hitting town just as the rental place was opening up and then they were back on the road. Fury, as expected, hadn’t been all too happy about the delay – or _why_ they’d been delayed, but even he’d had to admit they’d done the best they could under their constraints when Bucky had reminded him of that.

Then _Clint_ had pointed out that the kids had had several opportunities to do more than property damage but _hadn’t_ and Fury had conceded that their conclusion in that regard was also likely correct – the kids were fighting back, even if it was only showing in little ways, and that was _good news._

_Important_ news, even.

When they stopped at a picnic area later that day, they found it strangely devoid of cars or people, and the better mood they’d been enjoying from their revelation and the otherwise companionable car ride dissipated.

In fact, a buzzing was rising under Bucky’s skin, an uneasiness making the empty rest area feel way more creepy than a rest area in full daylight should be. And, as if to underscore that, the picnic area had no vending machines, the restrooms were locked and Bucky was getting a sense that something bad was about to go down.

And Bucky had long ago learned to trust those instincts.

He came back from his trip into the trees to find Clint already leaning back against their rental – something purple which Clint had _insisted_ on as soon as he’d seen it on the lot – also scanning the surrounding area.

“You feel it too?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah,” Clint answered, his voice quiet.

Bucky considered their options. They could get back in the car and try to ‘escape’ whatever was coming for them, or they could stay here, where casualties would be low if they were, indeed, attacked.

If they could just _capture_ one of the kids, figure out how good the brainwashing ‘spell’ was or get them to lead Bucky and Clint right to their targets, maybe this could be over.

It was the arrow that decided it.

Bucky heard it first but Clint reacted just as fast, drawing and knocking his own arrow even as Bucky spun, catching the incoming arrow with his metal hand for the second time in a matter of days. A flash of purple obscured by the growing white mist stood atop the closed building and Bucky sprinted for it.

Dammit, fog or no fog, if he’d been able to use his guns, this would be over. He’d been a sniper – and a damn good one at that – for a reason. But he daren’t use his guns, these kids weren’t to blame for what was happening, and Bucky’s shot was deadly.

He’d never forgive himself.

The teen that Clint had identified as Kate kept shooting and damn, she was good. Bucky had to dodge arrow after arrow – some of them pulling stunts like Clint’s tended to do.

_She probably learned it from Clint,_ he realized, rolling with the blast of an arrow. A _fwip_ went over his head and he knew Clint was shooting back. Bucky thought no more of it, unworried about what Clint was shooting, knowing Clint didn’t dare risk hurting her either and the arrows _wouldn’t_ hurt the cloud boy, Jack.

“Kate! Katie-Kate! Stop, it’s Clint - Hawkeye!” Clint was shouting.

Right, that might work. Clint had an actual, previous connection with that kid – if they _were_ fighting the brainwashing, Clint stood the best chance with Kate, though from what Katie had said, it hadn’t worked for her with her siblings.

“I know you don’t _really_ want to hurt us – _me!_ Put your bow down and come talk, okay?” Clint kept shouting, even as another arrow burst past Bucky. He made a leap, flipping himself up onto the roof ledge, and was immediately surrounded by white mist.

He shuddered, thinking how creepy it felt to know the mist was a person – _a kid_.

“Jack?” he called cautiously. He didn’t know the kid, but he should probably try too, right? Bucky strained his ears, listening for movement from Kate, tuning out Clint’s shouting – though not entirely.

There was, predictably, no response. Fuck, how old was the youngest boy again? Eight? Jesus, Bucky didn’t know shit about kids. How the hell was a former brainwashed assassin with tons of trauma supposed to break through to a little kid?

Blinded as Bucky was, he could rely only on his ears and his instincts to duck arrows and not roll off the roof. He was doing a fairly good job at it when a rumble shook the roof and Bucky swore. Had Clint or Kate started using explosive arrows? Had to be Kate, Clint would ever have risked –

And then Bucky’s blood ran cold when the sound of a child’s voice cut through the air.

A familiar one.

_Katie._

How the hell had she gotten here? And so quickly? It wasn’t like the kid could fly – or drive, for that matter. And if she’d taken a bus or something similar, it would have raised all sorts of flags.

Before the sinking feeling in his gut could solidify, he heard her calling for her brother.

“Jack! Stop! It’s me! It’s Katie! Please stop, you jerk!” her voice cracked a little and Bucky thought she might be crying. It tore at him, but at least that meant their targets hadn’t gotten their hooks into her.

<<Jack, please listen to your sister. This isn’t like you,>> said another voice, somewhat more mechanical, that Bucky didn’t recognize. What the hell was going on? Was that another of Starks’ AI’s? Just how many of those did he leave behind?

Bucky dodged another arrow, then dove off the roof, trying to escape the cloud cover to _see_ who the new players were.

He did _not_ expect to see a shining white ship – with all the angles and clear lines the pulp novels of his time had led him to believe would exist in the future, but didn’t – settled on the grass, Katie standing before it. Arms – _arms? –_ had sprouted from its hull and held something out. Katie grasped it in her tiny hands, a giant canister of some sort with little blinking lights, and she twisted the cap.

In an instant, the cloud boy was being sucked in and Bucky found himself momentarily stunned, blinking at Katie as she capped the cylinder just as soon as the last wisp of smoke was inside the glass.

There was dead silence for a moment before Bucky thought to turn around to spy Kate climbing down from the roof and running off, now that she had no cover. He grinned.

Without Jack to hinder him, this would be a piece of cake.

He took after her, impressed with her skill at shooting behind her while running and _still_ dodging the trees she’d taken to for new cover.

She was good, but she was still a kid, and she tripped on a root when she craned around to shoot him. The shot went wild and Bucky didn’t even have to duck. He surged forward, snatching the bow from her hands and tossing it behind him before pinning her arms down to her sides. She kicked out and he grunted.

“Stop it. We don’t want to hurt you. We just want to talk with you, okay kid?”

“I don’t know you,” she growled, struggling in his grip.

“No, you don’t. But I _do_ have someone with me you _do_ know. Just come back with me, let’s figure out what’s going on, all right?” Bucky asked desperately. There was no way she was going to say yes and go without a fight – except she did. She slumped in his grip and he eyed her suspiciously.

Despite the holes he still had in his memory, Bucky was pretty sure he knew this trick, that Steve had pulled it on him once or twice before he’d gotten himself shot up with super soldier serum.

Carefully, he shifted his grip to hold her with his flesh hand and pull her along – not harshly, more encouragingly – back towards the others, watching her warily, ready for the trick.

Clint raced forward as soon as Bucky and Kate cleared the tree line.

“Katie-Kate! Are you okay? You hurt?”

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Clint – don’t you remember? You came to me to hone your already impressive archery skills?” Clint asked desperately.

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t remember you.”

“Of course you do! I’m an Avenger, Hawkeye. Favorite color’s purple, I love dogs and pizza and I’m a human disaster? Look, you said so yourself,” he said.

“I don’t remember you,” she repeated, but Bucky heard a waver in her voice, a hesitancy. He gave Clint a look and Clint nodded. He’d noticed it too.

“Well, your partner and his sister are over here. Why don’t we join them, get something to eat, maybe talk a bit? Maybe we can jog your memory?” Clint said hopefully. “So um, you hungry?”

She paused. “Yeah,” she said, her voice small.

Clint brightened. “Great. Let’s get something to eat. We’ll all feel better once we have some food in us. Then we can have a _proper_ talk instead of trying to kill each other.”

They reached the others and Clint beamed. “So, Katie-Kate, meet Katie,” he said, pointing between the two girls. Katie was carefully cradling the canister in her arms but she looked up at Kate Bishop and her mouth dropped open.

“You’ve got the same name as me?” she asked.

Kate shifted on her feet, tugging at the hand still in Bucky’s grip. She looked at Katie, then at Clint and Bucky uneasily and back at Katie. “You’re with _them?”_ she asked hoarsely, ignoring the question.

Katie nodded. “They’re helping me save my brothers and sister.” She held up the canister. “This is my brother Jack.” Katie’s face fell and she sniffled. “And he doesn’t even remember me, cause some lady messed up his brain. I want my brother back, even if he _does_ call me a baby.”

“Huh,” Kate said, staring at Katie thoughtfully. Bucky could see the war going on through her eyes. She turned and glared at him. “You can let go of me, now, mister,” Kate said, jerking her hand away. “I’m not gonna run away.” She hesitated. “Or… or attack you again, I think?”

She sounded so lost and uncertain, but Bucky could see the brainwashing _was_ losing its hold on her and he let go, just as she asked. She yanked her arm back into her own space, rubbing at it while she glared at him. She looked back at Katie, shook her head and then stared at the white ship.

“What is _that?”_ she asked.

“Good question,” Bucky said. “I’ve been wondering the same thing.”

Clint loped up beside Bucky, Kate’s bow and arrow in his hands and he nodded. “Near as I can figure, it’s a ship – sentient, like Tony’s AI’s were. It brought Katie here.”

“But _how?”_ Bucky asked.

<<I am not an AI – I am a smartship and my name is Friday. I am from Kymellia and I tracked Jack here through his suit.>>

“You can do that?” Bucky asked, staring over at Katie. If this was true, it was obvious the child hadn’t known, but if she had, they could have ended this so much sooner.

<<Yes. I made _all_ the Power children’s suits.>>

“So, you can find the others?” Clint asked eagerly.

<<Affirmative.>>

“This is great news,” Clint turned to Bucky. “We can track down Alex and Julie with their suits and if we’re super lucky, they’ll still be with our targets. If we can take them down, we’ll have time to let the brainwashing wear off, like it already seems to be doing with Kate.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Bucky said. “If you can track the suits, and Katie escaped the Tower yesterday afternoon, then how are you only getting here _now_?”

<<Katie was unaware that she could call for me, I’m afraid, as Alex usually arranged emergency meetups. Otherwise, we have a standing meetup once a week in a safe location. That happened a mere hour ago. The children were late and I became worried.>>

“So you went looking for them,” Clint said softly, patting the hull sympathetically.

<<Yes. And when Katie explained what happened to them – you have to understand, with Whitey gone, the children are my only family and I love them very much. I would do anything to help them.>>

Right. Whitey had been the alien that died, giving the children his powers.

Bucky watched Clint’s eyes close, noted the barely there shiver he tried to hold back and the wetness around his eyes that didn’t fall.

If anybody understood, it was Clint.

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

In the end, they decided to strike right away.

In between Friday offering something Katie vehemently shook her head at and the MRE’s that Clint had had the foresight to stash away in his bag before they left the safehouse, the four of them talked.

As much as Bucky and Clint wanted to wait longer to give Kate and Jack time to completely clear the cobwebs away from their minds, the risk was too strong that the longer the kids were away, the more suspicious their targets would become.

If that happened, they might split up, and their chance at taking them all down at once would disappear. Leaving the rental behind – no hardship as Kate had apparently shot out each and every one of the tires - everyone climbed into Friday and planned as the smartship flew the ride smoother than anything Bucky had ever flown in.

“Won’t they see us coming?” Bucky asked, trying to push back his nerves about a pilot he didn’t know, much less see.

<<Do not worry, Bucky. We are currently cloaked and should be invisible to almost everyone and everything except the most sophisticated of devices, of which I highly doubt the Earth has yet made.>>

“Don’t tell Fury about that one,” Clint leaned over and whispered. “He’ll want to get his hands on that technology and, last I checked, that might have bad consequences.”

Bucky happened to agree, but he waved it off for now. “What I’m most concerned with is, how are we going to subdue those kids without hurting them? We’ve not been having much luck of it so far, I hate to admit. Friday, is there something you can do for Julie and Alex the way you did for Jack?”

<<I’m afraid that their abilities are such that I cannot contain them as easily as Jack,>> the smartship said mournfully. <<Also, it appears that we have arrived.>>

They all crowded against the windows to look around.

On the ground, at what looked to be a campsite, was a beat up camper, large enough to cram in a lot of folks if they didn’t mind the close quarters. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but needs must as the devil drives, Bucky supposed.

Still, it painted a strange picture to him. Who _was_ this person?

The ship parked itself nearby, the residents of the camper seeming none the wiser to their presence, just as Friday had assured. Bucky relaxed. That was good, it gave them more time to actually plan.

“Friday, let us know if the camper starts to move or if anyone leaves it,” Clint said.

<<Of course.>>

“All right, what do we know about these people?” Bucky said, hoping to draw in Kate and Jack who’d been let out by his sister. Bucky hadn’t been entirely sure that was a wise idea but Kate seemed to have mostly brushed off the mind control so surely Jack would have as well?

“There are two adults,” Kate said abruptly, surprising herself by the look of it. She shook her head and continued. “Carmody and Mordrianna. They don’t actually like each other much.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, they’re always fighting. Like, _really_ fighting.”

“Carmody is creepy.” Kate shuddered. “And Mordrianna seems to agree. I think they’re only teamed up because she needs his resources.”

“I think she’s scared of him,” Jack said. Kate nodded after giving him an appraising look.

Clint and Bucky exchanged a glance and then looked back out towards the camper. Carmody didn’t seem to have much in terms of resources, but then, if you didn’t have anything yourself, sometimes beggars couldn’t be choosers. So, what was Mordrianna after that she was willing to ally herself with someone she didn’t like or trust?

And could they use that to their advantage?

“Why are they doing this?” Clint asked.

Kate shrugged. “Revenge, I think. She said the Avengers ruined her life, and Carmody says the Power family ruined his. So she’s trying to build an army – “

_Point for Fury,_ Bucky thought idly.

“And Carmody figured the best revenge was to take the kids away from their parents and reveal that the kids had powers and had been lying to them all along.”

“Mom would be _really_ upset. Like, lots an’ lots,” Jack said. He was struggling to keep his face even, like it didn’t matter, like he was old enough to cope, but he was failing. Katie sniffled and Jack lashed out, shoving her away from him.

“Cut it out, baby!” his voice wobbled in a way Bucky was sure Katie hadn’t noticed, would take her brothers words and attitude far too much to heart. Her sniffles turned to tears and Bucky pulled Katie into his lap, soothing her as she cried.

“Hey! Enough of that!” Clint snapped. He pointed at Jack. “That isn’t helping. I know you’re upset, but don’t take it out on your sister.”

Jack folded his arms over his chest. “I’m not upset!” he said belligerently. “ _I’m_ not a stupid crybaby!”

Katie ducked her head further into Bucky’s neck.

“Well, _I’m_ upset,” Kate said. “She messed with my head, kidnapped me, and then tried to get me to kill one of my friends!” She looked over at Clint apologetically.

“So, you _do_ remember me?” Clint asked happily.

“Yeah, old man, I remember you. What’s with the mohawk? Mid-life crisis?”

Bucky held back the wince because, honestly, as much as he liked it, it kind of was? And how would Clint handle that casual jab at one of the worst times of his life?

Clint surprised him by laughing, hugging Kate tightly before letting go and turning back to Jack. “Kid, I hate to tell you, but even grownups cry. I cried at least twice this week. So you might wanna rethink the idea that you aren’t allowed to be upset, or cry.”

Jack had the good sense to look ashamed of himself and Clint gentled his voice. “Now why don’t you apologize to your sister?”

“Sorry,” Jack mumbled after he shuffled closer to Bucky and Katie.

Kate shook her head. “You are _such_ a dad,” she said, but it was said with a smile.

Bucky rocked Katie, the child clinging to him in such a way, he was certain she’d fallen asleep. “Okay, what else can you guys tell us? Know how the brainwashing thing works?” he asked.

“We’ve figured out _how_ its administered, through sound, and you all seemed to shake it off pretty easy, so why did they send you off?” Clint asked.

“Dunno,” Kate shrugged. “But me and this one other kid are like, the oldest she had. I don’t think it works on anyone older. It works _really_ well on the younger kids. And our ‘missions’ were always short. I think…” Kate bit her lip. “I think on me, at least, it kept slipping and kept needing to reinforce it.”

“Not much of an army if you can’t keep control of it,” Bucky noted.

Kate shrugged again. “You got me.”

“How many kids has she got?” Clint asked.

“A few. There’s me and Jack, of course. Alex and Julie. Then Peter who’s my age and 2 littler kids, Leech and Artie, maybe Katie’s age? Bunch of others,” She bit her lip and counted on her fingers. “All told, about 20? I think there were others but they got away.”

“Do they all have powers?” Bucky asked.

Kate nodded. “Well, mostly, yeah. I didn’t, but I’ve always been that good,” she said smugly. “The kid in the wheel chair can make anything tech. Two of the girls can make fireworks and sparklers and stuff. It can really hurt if they do it right. Another one can change her… not her shape but… like… instead of being flesh, now she’s diamond? It’s kinda gross, actually, but you can’t hurt her so, like, that’s pretty cool.”

“And she keeps everyone in line with her brainwashing?” Clint asked. “Why don’t more kids run away once it starts to wear off?”

“That’s what Leech is for,” Jack piped in. “Doesn’t affect Kate, or Carmody, but none of our powers work around him.”

“And Carmody keeps everyone locked up so we can’t get away from Leech. Mordrianna doesn’t like that, actually. It’s one of the things they argue about,” Kate said.

“Well, I think I have a plan then,” Bucky said. “Leech won’t have any affect on me or Clint –“

“Or me,” Kate supplied.

“You’re not going with us,” Clint said.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You wanna bet? Leech can’t affect me and I’m just as good as you are with the bow and we both know it.”

“I’m going too!” Jack pushed in. Katie stirred in Bucky’s arms, turning to face Jack. “Alex and Julie are _my_ brother and sister an’ I gotta save them!”

“Me too,” Katie agreed. Jack beamed at her and she beamed back. Great, one minute they were fighting like cats and dogs, the next, they were teaming up against the adults.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Clint said. his eyes were going a little wild. “It’s bad enough we might have to fight children, we’re not deliberately putting more in danger!”

“If we’ve timed it right? We won’t have to fight any of them,” Bucky said. “If they’re all locked up inside that camper with Leech draining away their powers, then they’re just kids. We can go after Carmody and Mordrianna, get to the _real_ issue.”

Clint nodded.

“But I wanna help!” Katie tugged at Bucky’s hair. “I can!”

Bucky went to protest and then he had an idea. “Actually, you kids _can_ help” He looked at Kate. “They’ll trust you, thinking you’re coming back to them after a mission, right? We can’t safely attack if we have to worry about the kids, but you can get in without suspicion and you can lead the rest of the kids away from the fight and get them on board Friday.”

“That’s not bad, actually,” Clint agreed. “Just tell them Friday’s an upgrade and Mordrianna wants to move them to safety. Once everyone’s clear, we can _really_ tackle Carmody and Mordrianna without worry.”

“Now, can everyone fit aboard Friday?”

Kate looked thoughtful. “Might be tight but, maybe.”

“Don’t worry, they won’t stay here long, unless things go badly,” Bucky said.

Clint backhanded his arm and three other faces turned and glared at him.

“What?”

“You _jinxed_ us, pal,” Kate said, hands on her hips. “Now _everything_ will go wrong!”

Bucky groaned, looking around at the gathered faces, coming to rest on Clint’s. “Seriously, you too? The kids I expect, but this, this superstition, just… really?”

Clint shrugged. “Hey, I don’t know if you know this, but I was raised by carnies. They’re about as superstitious a bunch as you could get.”

Shaking his head, Bucky sighed and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.


	9. Inevitable Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to confront the kidnappers - Bucky only hopes they can manage this without any of the kids getting hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GISH (the week long scavenger hunt) still has a hold on me  
> i've completed 3 items successfully, 1 item has failed gloriously, working on another item and gonna knock out 3 more at a meetup in a couple of hours... 
> 
> i can't WAIT to show some of this off (one is already out for public viewing on my instagram if you want to see it : WingedPherryt )
> 
> So, this chapter is a little shorter than the others but i think it has a lot happening in it, so that makes up for it, right?

Bucky fitted the comm into his ear and the earplug into the other, tapping the comm on. “This coming through?” he asked. Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe the technology advancements that had occurred when he was… out of it.

“Loud and clear,” Clint said in his ear. He was on the other side of the small space and handing out the plugs Friday had made. Neither of them wanted the kids involved, but, well, Katie had already run away from safety straight into dangers arms, so neither Bucky nor Clint had any high hopes that they’d stay put like they’d been told to do.

They could still hope, though, and prepare for the worst – just in case.

“So let’s go over the plan again,” Bucky said.

“KISS,” Clint said.

Bucky blinked. Really, was now the time?

Clint’s laugh echoed over the comms and through the ship, though the latter was muted by the earplug.

“It means, Keep It Simple Stupid.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky sighed. “Right. Of course it does. Did Stark come up with that one too?”

“Nah, we as a people just love our acronyms,” Clint said. “Everyone’s earplugs are in place. Friday’s scanning the area and if Mordrianna tries to use her brainwashing trick on _anyone,_ Friday’s going to try to interrupt the frequency or whatever with some area static.”

“Hopefully that won’t interfere with our own comms,” Bucky said. “Or your ears.”

<<Do not worry, Bucky. I have taken precautions for that event.>> Friday’s voice came over the comms and Bucky startled slightly. Alien tech probably trumped human tech.

He shook his head. “Friday, if you’re tapped into our comms, does that mean the earplugs we gave the kids can also be used to talk?”

<<Yes, they can. I felt it was important that we all stay connected.>>

“She ain’t wrong,” Clint said in his ear.

<<They, please. I have no gender.>>

“My apologies,” Clint said, saluting the main console of the ship from across the small space.

“C’mon, let’s get our asses moving. I want to get this over and done with and get these kids home safe,” Bucky grumbled.

Clint and Bucky slipped out of the ship and made their way to the nearest cover to the camper.

Kate and Jack followed, scooting past as Bucky and Clint ducked behind some bushes. The kids went first, because they’d be expected and would provide the perfect distraction. And since they hadn’t been given any transportation, their tardiness had most likely been overlooked.

At least, that was the hope.

Bucky still didn’t like sending Kate and Jack in, his stomach twisting at the idea that he might be putting them in more danger, yet it was the best idea they had of getting the other kids out with minimal casualties – especially when it became clear that if Bucky and Clint didn’t _give_ the kids a task, they’d find their own.

And that would be way worse.

Who knew wrangling superhero kids could be such hard work?

The camper had more than one entrance, so while Kate and Jack went in one way, Bucky headed straight for the skylight while Clint covered the front door.

He landed on the roof silently and more lightly than anyone would believe, the camper barely rocking when he did. Bucky looked around. There was no sign of anybody but Clint, and even Bucky was having a hard time spotting him where he stood. Clint wasn’t going to be discovered by anyone who didn’t know how or where to look for him.

As for Friday… well, Fury would be envious of Friday’s cloaking capabilities, of that Bucky was sure.

“We’re in,” Kate’s voice said softly in his ear, the muted sounds of the conversation around her creating static, even to his super hearing. “Go.”

“They’re in the front of the camper,” Clint murmured. “Unless they remodeled while Kate was away, it should be closed off from the rest. You won’t be seen.”

Bucky grunted an acknowledgment, opened the skylight and slipped down.

He landed, dropping down into a crouch and did a quick look around the back half of the camper. He felt something loosen in relief when the sectioned wall proved to be closed, cutting him off from their targets.

Maybe they _could_ pull this off.

Turning, he found that relief washed away as a band tightened around his chest at the sight of all those kids huddled in fear in a section of camper never meant to hold that many. They were cramped together on two sets of bunkbeds, spilling over into the little aisleway between them.

There were no windows, no vents, and there was a solid set of bars between them and Bucky.

Voices came from the front, dulled by his earpieces to the point of useless noise and Bucky had to trust that Carmody and Mordrianna would be distracted enough by Kate and Jack’s return for him to pull off this next bit.

Bucky crept closer to the cage – that’s all it could be called, with each of them packed so tight they couldn’t even move. It was dreadful, absolutely dreadful and it sickened him. it reminded him too much of other things, things he’d fought against before.

He had to fight to keep his hands from bunching up into fists, to keep an angry scowl off his face. He didn’t want them to be afraid and he _needed_ them to _trust_ him.

Peering between the bars, he scanned the faces and recognized three of them straight off – Julie, Alex and Peter. Neither Julie nor Alex seemed to remember him, though Alex was frowning, shaking his head a little as if maybe he _did_ remember _something._ Other than that, the only spark of recognition he saw was from Peter, whose eyes widened slightly, darting behind Bucky, then back again.

The kids shifted and whispered amongst themselves, staring at him warily but otherwise didn’t react, except Peter who was trying to quietly and carefully bring himself to the front.

Bucky moved forward, grabbed the lock with his metal hand and crushed it, yanking it off the bars and pulling the door open. He expected it to squeak, given the condition of everything else, but was surprised when it didn’t.

“Stay together, stay alert, your friends are waiting for you,” he said, keeping his voice low.

There was a brighter spark flaring in Peters eyes, even as the rest of the children continued to stare at him distrustingly.

“Mr. Winter?” Peter asked uncertainly.

Jesus, was that what they were calling him?

“Don’t call me that,” Bucky said, holding in the growl.

“Did you come to rescue us, Mr. Winter, sir?” Peter asked. The kids shifted behind him, murmuring. From the looks of things, whatever brainwashing had held them had probably faded off most or, – if they were lucky – all.

Bucky motioned at them, angling his head to check behind him before looking back at Peter. “Sshhh, kid. Yes, we’re here to bring you all home.”

Noise from the front of the camper made Bucky turn, his hand going for a weapon instinctively - though that would be a really, really bad idea right now - only to find Kate and Jack had reached them.

Instantly, he looked behind them.

“Don’t worry, they’re too busy arguing,” Kate said. She worried at her lip, looked behind her and back again. “Now that the brainwashing isn’t taking root… Bucky… she’s scared of him. And… It’s _him_ that’s been locking everyone up. I really feel like… like there’s something else going on that we don’t know.”

“Yeah, well, now’s _not_ the time to get into bad guy motivations, alright? We gotta get these kids outta here,” Bucky said. “Jack, I opened the skylight. You go up, make sure no one falls off.”

Jack nodded, his body becoming a pillar of white smoke, a billowing cloud that swirled its way up the to opening in the roof and then solidified to sit on the edge. When Bucky looked over, Kate was already whispering to Peter and Alex and the rest of the children. Alex looked confused, but he pushed gently through the crowd of kids at Kate’s urging, then followed Jack through the roof, his white outfit turning black as he floated through the air.

Leaning down, Alex said, “If you pass them to me, Mister Winter, I can pick ‘em up easy – except for Leech. Leech messes my powers up.”

One of the children, a green skinned boy, looked down at the ground sadly and whispered hoarsely, “Sorry.” Another, an unnaturally pink skinned boy, reached an arm around Leech’s shoulder and pulled him in close. He didn’t say a word, but Leech huddled into his arms.

Bucky was already handing the first one up through the skylight when the voices at the front got louder and probably closer.

“C’mon, we gotta go faster,” he said over the comms.

“That opening’s too small to go faster,” Kate hissed. Julie and another couple of girls were helping Kate pass out Friday’s ear plugs and sending the kids to Bucky. Bucky grabbed each kid as gently as he could, passing the girl or boy up to Peter who was now hung upside down on the inside of the campers’ roof. They passed off each kid between them like a bucket at a fire brigade – Kate to Bucky, Bucky to Peter, Peter to Alex – until only a few children were left.

Leech and his friend, Kate, and a kid in a wheelchair.

Kid was never gonna fit. Not unless Bucky blasted the skylight, and that would only bring Carmody and Mordrianna running. He stared from the kid, to the opening, back to the front as he pondered.

“Kate, you go up, make sure everyone got down and over to Friday safely.”

“But what about - ?”

“I’ll get them out, but it might draw attention, so get started. The fewer of you we have to worry about, the better,” Bucky said.

His earpiece crackled a little and Clint’s voice came over the line. “I can see the children. Alex and Julie are floating them down in a few big groups at a time. They’re almost done. How many are left inside?”

“If Kate will listen to me, three. Where are Carmody and Mordrianna?”

“Heading your way,” Clint said.

“Okay, we’re out of time, kid,” Bucky said. “Kate, get the hell outta here. You - I’m gonna blow away the wall and lower you to the ground so you can get away.” He looked over at the two boys clinging to each other. You two, follow him out, catch up with the others and _don’t look back_.”

“What about you, Mister Winter?” the Asian kid looked at him with worried eyes. When Bucky got out of here, he was going to have a talk with Peter about that name.

“The blast will draw them in here, I’ll keep them off you three, you just keep going, okay?”

“Bucky!” Clint shouted.

The door between the front of the camper and the back slammed open and Carmody stood there in his white gear, fury on his face. Mordrianna stood behind him, looking small and more scared than Bucky had expected of a villain.

Bucky whipped out his gun, blasted the wall and shoved at it with his feet to make a ramp for the wheelchair – only to watch the kid, whose hands moved lightning fast over the strange chair, suddenly lift into the air as the wheels turned into something _else_ and he zipped out of the camper.

One more kid safe, 2 to go. Why weren’t they _moving_?

“Leech! The two of you, follow him!” Bucky shouted, swinging his gun towards Carmody. Carmody shrieked with anger, eyes bulging, launching himself at Bucky and brandishing something some sort of technology that was probably supposed to look frightening but instead, looked more like a cartoon villain’s prop.

Carmody jabbed at Bucky, but he ducked to the side and kicked out. Carmody’s backpack sputtered and he lurched high up enough in the air to avoid the sweep, but not high enough to hit his head.

_Pity,_ Bucky thought. _Could have saved us all a lot of trouble if you brained yourself, pal._

“Brainwash him, you idiot!” Carmody bellowed. Spit sprayed out and hit Bucky in the face. _Oh, that’s just fucking gross._

“I _can’t!”_ Mordrianna yelled back. “How many times do I have to explain how this works?”

“You’re useless!” he shouted. “Another useless freak!” Carmody growled at Mordrianna and she flinched back, fear clear on her face and that made Bucky frown. Kate had been on to something. Whatever was going on here, it might not be as cut and dry as they’d thought.

Still, she _had_ kidnapped multiple children.

_And_ brainwashed them.

The idea of it, the broken memories of the things he’d done while _he_ was brainwashed, chilled him deeper than cryo ever had, so Bucky wasn’t really feeling all that charitable about it.

As he shouted, Carmody tossed discs into the air, several landing near her, and some near Bucky. Carmody grinned gleefully, reaching for his glove. “Bye bye, _freaks_.” He punched a button with a finger and an electrical arc spilled through the room.

Bucky growled and lunged forward as Mordrianna screamed, her body twisting in agony.

The bad guys never truly cared about their partners or their tools, did they?

The vines of electricity kept her from collapsing, but she was otherwise immobile.

It didn’t slow Bucky down in the slightest. Carmody had clearly not thought ahead if he thought _this_ would down an Avenger – especially one that had super soldier serum running through his veins, and had been through what Bucky had.

This was _nothing_ compared to the chair, to the electricity they’d used to beat Bucky’s brain into submission, and all it was _really_ doing was pissing him off.

Something _fwipped_ by his ear, but Bucky paid it no heed, knowing Clint had his back, knowing the delay probably had meant that Clint had needed to change his vantage point.

Carmody’s eyes went wide when Bucky’s hand closed around his throat and picked him up, thudding him against the wall. He choked, trying to speak, his words garbled and Bucky only grinned before knocking Carmody into the wall one more time, careful not to crush his skull.

Bucky’s grin grew wider int0 one of satisfaction as the mans’ eyes rolled up into his head and he passed out cold.

Without Carmody’s finger on the button, the electrical arcs died away, leaving the taste of ozone in the air and a tingle in his skin.

The screaming had stopped a few seconds before and Bucky turned – content that Carmody no longer presented any danger (if he ever really had) - to where Mordrianna slumped against a wall, pinned to it by one of Clint’s specialty arrows – in this case, a net with putty on it’s edges.

Grunting, Bucky turned away from her to check on Leech and his friend. The two children had stayed huddle in the back of the camper and Bucky had the sudden, horrified thought, that Carmody’s weapon had reached them.

It wasn’t all that big a space, after all, and even someone as incompetent as Carmody had been would have invested in a big area affect if he planned to fight stronger than normal humans.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw them curled together, apparently unharmed as they watched him with big, moist eyes. _Oh no… please, no more crying children_ , Bucky sent the thought up to Heaven, not even a prayer but something way more resigned.

Kneeling before them, he spoke gently. “Hey, are you both all right?”

“Leech scared. Artie scared too,” Leech croaked out. The other kid – Artie apparently - nodded, still clinging to Leech.

“I’m sorry, but it’s over now, okay? We’re gonna get you two safe. Were you hurt?” Bucky said gently.

They shook their heads and he relief flooded him, almost causing him to sag. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you outta here before they came back. C’mon, let’s get you back to the others,” Bucky said, holding out his hand.

Leech shook his head.

Bucky frowned. “C’mon, you two, I don’t have any powers to worry about, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s time to get you safe too. Let’s join the rest, okay?”

Leech shook his head vehemently, shaking and holding on to the other tighter. The other patted his back sympathetically but still didn’t speak.

“No, Leech don’t wanna go with them. Other kids hate leech. Everyone hates Leech,” he said, his childish voice rough and broken and _sad._ It _hurt_. No child should be that sad, so sure the world hates them.

The other shook his head and bumped their shoulders together. Bucky was starting to wonder if the kid had always been mute, or if he was traumatized so much by everything that he’d gone mute. Either was a distressing concept, but most especially the latter.

Leech sniffled. “Except Artie. Artie is Leech’s friend.”

“Why would anyone hate you?”

“Us, different.” Leech said, pointing at his skin, then Artie’s. “Leech because leech.”

A clatter by the makeshift ramp called Bucky’s attention away slightly and he noticed Clint climbing up the side of the camper turned ramp, his attention completely fixed on the woman.

“Clint – “ Bucky started, getting to his feet.

Clint looked over and waved him off. “Just gonna talk with her. Why don’t you get them outta here? I’m sure they don’t need to be around her any longer.”

Yeah, like it was gonna be that easy. Bucky scratched at his head, looking down at the two kids. How was he going to get them moving? He dropped back into a crouch, looking them in the eye.

“Y’know, a lot of people hated me for a long time. But I had someone fight for me once upon a time, fight to get others to realize that I wasn’t the man they thought I was, and to get to know the _real_ me. Some people still hate me,” make that, a lot, “and they always will, but I got friends now – “ did it count is plural when it was mostly just Sam? Everyone else tolerated him, he was pretty sure, worked with him because he was good at his job. He gave himself a mental shake. No, he also had T’Challa and Shuri, and that racoon who kept trying to steal his arm and, dare he believe it, maybe Clint, too. “- and we can help you find the people who can see _you_ and be _your_ friends.”

Leech bit his lip, Artie craned about to look up at Leech hopefully. Finally, Leech nodded. “Okay,” he said in a broken whisper so small, Bucky almost missed it with his ears still covered.

Bucky reached his hand out again and Leech took it, standing, Artie coming with him easily.

With a concerned glance over at Clint who was currently glaring at the woman while making sure Carmody was wrapped up tight for when he came too, Bucky led the children out of the camper and down the ruins of it’s wall, heading for Friday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay.... so i wanna just say that i HATE writing case/mission fics cause i never feel smart enough for them and that this whole mission arc only happened as a plot device to get Clint off the damn farm and give him and Bucky a reason to even interact. that being said, once it became clear i had to write a mission, i did my damndest to make it work and to make sense and i hope i pulled it off.
> 
> but the story isn't done yet... keep tuned for more ;D


	10. True Motivations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint gets the truth out of Mordrianna and Bucky comes up with a plan...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay - i decided to wait to put up this chapter because of the winterhawk reverse bang - i figured it'd get lost with everything dropping at once (i'm pretty sure my art for it did! lol)

When Bucky got back to Clint, Mordrianna was straining against the net, eyes wild and wet, her face blotchy.

And she was screaming. Because of course she was. Bucky winced, glad for the ear plugs, though they didn’t do as much as he’d like. There were times when he cursed his super soldier hearing and this was one of them.

“You don't understand! We were _free._ " Mordrianna struggled against the bonds. "My baby sister and I made a life - a _safe_ one - when half the world disappeared in a blink. When our parents were taken. The relief we felt..." she choked on the words, her breathing hitching.

Bucky froze, taking in her and Clint. Was she saying - ?

“And then the damn Avengers brought them back - _you_ brought them back – tearing apart the happy life I worked so hard to make for her!” she snarled. “I hate you, I hate all the Avengers for what you did! None of you understand! None of you could _ever_ understand what you took away from me and my sister!”

“Nah sweetheart,” Bucky said, treading carefully. Her harsh words had staggered Clint, made him blanch and close his eyes against them, and Bucky knew, just knew, there was more to this then feeling guilty about bringing bad people back with the good. “I think you got the only Avenger who _could_ understand.”

Clint shuddered and took a breath before kneeling before her and speaking quietly. “You’re not the only one whose life changed. So many people lost what was important to them that it never occurred to _anyone_ that reversing the snap would also bring back things that were better left lost.”

She was quiet, tears streaming down her face as she stared at Clint defiantly.

“I’ve been where you were, where your sister is. I had an abusive, drunk father that beat me and, despite the best protective efforts of my mother and my older brother, he still beat me so bad I lost my hearing. I know what you’re going through.”

“But I also know this path you’re treading. Believe me, it’s not one you want to go down. It changes you on a fundamental level, breaks you.” Clint shuddered again and Bucky stepped forward and clasped a hand on his shoulder, trying to be the silent support he needed, and hoped he didn’t overstep his bounds. Whatever was going on between them – Bucky still wasn’t sure where the lines were, only where he _wished_ they weren’t.

“I have to,” she choked out. “Because if I don’t, who else will? The Avengers think they know what’s best for everyone, but our lives were better when our parents were gone.”

“What if it had been your sister that had been snapped away with the rest? Would you be as angry at the Avengers for fixing it? When we set out to undo what had been done, we reunited many billions of families across the universe, not just this planet,” Clint said earnestly. “I found my own family again. Good people: my wife, my children - and my own friends and fellow Avengers – all these good people taken away unfairly while there were thieves and abusers and murderers and everything else left behind.”

“Everything was so hopeless, and the world so unfair that I took it upon myself to fix the balance, to take away the lives of those who didn't _deserve_ to still be here when we all lost good people. And when I found out there was a way to get them back, you bet your _ass_ I took it,” Clint said fiercely. “Wouldn’t you? If you’d lost your sister from the Snap and you had a chance – even the slimmest chance – to get her back, wouldn’t you?”

Her eyes went wide but she nodded.

Clint was silent for a few long moments, the line of his shoulder tense under Bucky’s fingers. “To regain my family, I lost someone who was closer to me than you could even imagine. She sacrificed herself for _our_ sake and,” Clint choked and Bucky ached to hold him as the tears ran down his face. "I did things, such horrible things, because my family were taken away, and now that I have them back, I can barely look them in my eye, I'm afraid to touch them for fear that I'll taint their goodness with the things that I did.”

His eyes opened; his face filled with anguish. “I destroyed myself to save them, and now I’m destroying my family because I’m not who I used to be. I did this to myself, like you are but you still have a chance. I'm broken already, but you don't have to be. Let us help you.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” she scoffed, her lip wobbling. “They took her away. Parents are ‘automatically’ the best choice and it didn’t even matter the life we’d made, or what I said. And I can’t keep her safe.”

“We - I _can_ help you, I swear. We can take her away from them, bury your names and your location so deep your parents will never find you again. We can bring you somewhere safe,” Clint offered, his voice still choked with emotion.

She looked at him, with hope, tears still falling from eyes and Bucky dared to breathe again.

“Why would you do that? After I’ve done all this?”

“Because the Avengers believe in second chances. Or I wouldn’t _be_ one.”

“Or me,” Bucky added.

“What do you say?” Clint asked. “Let us help you? Return all these kids home where they belong, where _their_ families are missing them as bad as you miss your sister, and let us go and get her, and hide you both away, safe.”

She nodded, biting her lip. Clint nodded at Bucky and he cut the ropes holding her in place and she fell into Clint’s arms, sobbing.

"The Avengers are literally built on Second Chances," Clint said. "Everyone in the core group, except maybe Cap, had done or simply _been_ something that wouldn't have gotten a pass elsewise. It'd be pretty shitty for us to turn around and take away everyone else’s."

She sobbed in his arms a good long while, Bucky stepping back enough to keep an eye on the scene. He was conflicted. She’d kidnapped and brainwashed kids. But these things she’d said, and the things he’d been piecing together, painted a hopeless picture of her trapped and desperate.

And people did stupid things when they were desperate.

“Why?” he asked gruffly. “Why take all these children? What did you plan to do with them? Were you planning on fighting the Avengers with them?”

She jerked back from Clint to stare at Buck, eyes still wet, and she shook her head sharply. She hiccupped, her voice watery as she spoke. “No, that was Carmody’s plan. I looked for kids I thought would need a home, kids who were special – like me – who would stand with me if anyone came after us. So I could finally go to my parents house and stand up to them and take my sister back, and know they wouldn’t _dare_ come after us. But he wanted the Power kids and then…” She shuddered. “and my powers don’t work on adults. It’s not really brainwashing, just… suggestion. I couldn’t change his mind and he’d… he was…”

She shuddered again and then squeaked and flinched when the white lump that was Carmody stirred. Clint held her close, murmuring to her.

Carmody blinked awake, struggling to sit up, immediately blustering and cursing. Bucky’s eyes narrowed as he spewed hate and abusive language that recalled Bucky all too much of his old handlers.

Yeah, second chances were all well and good, but he hoped to hell Clint didn’t suggest that this guy deserved one. The sooner they got Carmody out of their hair, the better Bucky would feel. Carmody, as ineffective as he was, felt slimy as fuck.

It probably wasn’t in the good guy code to knock someone out when they literally presented no danger to you. Bucky sighed, found some cloth and gagged Carmody instead, watching as Mordrianna sagged in relief.

Clint stood, pulling Bucky aside, though they didn’t go far. “Look, you heard what I said, I think she deserves a second chance. She was misguided and seeking vengeance and Carmody preyed on that. It was obvious as soon as I saw her interacting with him, that she came from an abusive environment.”

“The same one her sister is in,” Bucky said quietly, flicking his eyes over to the slumped over figure. “Yeah, I’m getting that picture.”

Clint nodded. “And it’s hard to get out of that type of environment, out of that mindset.”

And hell, with what Clint had told Mordrianna just a short bit ago, he would know, wouldn’t he? God, did anyone get to be an Avenger without having bad history?

“What are you planning, Clint?”

“I’m _planning_ on getting the other kids home. Then I’m gonna get her sister and bring both of them back to the farm.” He looked towards Friday. “I might take those two little ones too. They weren’t on the missing persons report. I don’t think they _have_ anywhere to go. I’ll doublecheck that, of course, but…”

Bucky shook his head in awe. “You’re a good man, Clint.”

Clint flushed. “No, I’m really not. It’s just the least I can do.”

“It’s more than others would have done,” Bucky insisted. “C’mon. Let’s figure this out.”

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

Between Kate and the newly released Peter and Alex, they’d gently herded all the children aboard Friday, many of them with wide eyes, a few of them with wet eyes, but more than one with smiles beginning to bloom on their faces as they realized they were going home.

Clint and Bucky stayed outside, Bucky calling Fury while Clint stayed with Mordrianna – whose real name turned out to actually be Claudia - talking with her quietly. The general comms were turned off, and Bucky otherwise tuned them out, allowing them the privacy.

“You found them?” Fury said on the other end. “And how did that go?”

“Uh, well, actually. A few surprising twists and turns that worked out in our favor. No casualties, we’ve got about 20 plus kids to return home, Carmody is in custody and awaiting pickup and…” Bucky hesitated, looking over at Claudia and Clint. “And I think Clint just adopted the other one.”

There was silence on the other end and when Fury spoke, Bucky could just imagine the pinched expression on his face, his one eye rolling in his head. “Of course he did. That man never does exactly what he’s told.”

“Wouldn’t have been such a good agent if he did, would he?” Bucky pushed back.

“No, he wouldn’t have,” Fury agreed, much to Bucky’s surprise. “I’ve got your location. Stay put. I’m sending Sam out to you to pick you up.”

“Hmm…” Bucky would have to talk it over with Clint first, but he thought that when Sam came by, a few of them would be staying back. After all, they had alternative transport, and as long as they didn’t have to cram a crowd into it, it should be doable.

It was less than an hour before Sam showed up. Bucky had gone to check on the children while Clint stayed outside with Claudia and Carmody. Some of the kids might forgive Claudia but the bulk of them were probably too frightened of her in addition to Carmody, their own personal bogeymen.

It didn’t help that Carmody literally called himself that. What an ass. In either case, neither Clint nor Bucky wanted to further the trauma of forcing the kids to be in close quarters with their captives.

Kate went outside to keep Clint company, while Peter busied himself introducing Bucky to the rest of the children and Bucky became acquainted with the rest of the Power kids. Drawing Alex and Julie aside, Bucky spoke of his plan. They promised to talk it over with Jack, Katie and Friday and get back to him.

By the time Sam landed the jet, the plan was a go, and Bucky stood and clapped his hands together. “All right everyone, your ride home has arrived. How many of you have ever flown before?”

A few hands rose. Bucky grinned. “Well, you’re in for a treat, because not only do you get to fly, but you get to fly on a very special plane – it’s the one the Avengers use!”

Eyes all around him went wide and there were a few cheers. A hand tentatively took his and tugged and he looked down to see the little green kid – Leech – looking up at him with something he’d once heard a teenager describe as heart eyes.

Bucky knelt down beside Leech. “Did you and Artie talk about what I asked?”

Leech nodded.

“Did you want to do that?”

Leech nodded again.

“Okay, good,” Bucky said, smiling down at the kid. “Clint will be happy to hear it. Let me get everything else taken care of, all right?”

Nodding for the third time, Leech then scampered back to join Artie, the other kids all parting for him easily. Too easily. What Leech had said had appeared to be true. Bucky held back the sigh and tapped his earpiece. “Is the prisoner secure and out of sight, Sam?”

“Yep. It’s safe to bring the kids on board.”

“Let’s go. Faster we move, faster we can get you home,” Bucky said, leading them out of the ship with Peter’s help. They skittered past Clint and Claudia, stared up at the jet in awe and scrambled aboard, excited to see the inside. Sam stood inside, showing them where to sit and getting them buckled in.

Bucky wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the buckles used since he started with the Avengers.

“Hey, Sam,” Bucky greeted.

“Hey, Bucky,” Sam grinned. “Knew you and Clint could pull it off, man. The two of you are some stubborn sons of bitches.”

“Language,” Bucky reminded, looking pointedly at the children.

“Hey Mr. Falcon sir – I mean, Captain America!” Peter gushed as he got on board. “Can I be your copilot?”

“Spiderman,” Sam said, raising his eyebrow. “You will _not_ be touching any controls, you got it?” Peter nodded.

“Peter’s going to be your second in command,” Bucky said slyly.

“I am?”

“He’s what?!”

“Yeah, me and Clint have a few things to take care of,” Bucky said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “That leaves you with Peter. You fly, he’ll be your eyes back here, keeping the kids calm. I’m sure you two can handle it.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course I can!” Peter said excitedly. “Thanks so much Mr. Barnes! I won’t let you down!”

Well, at least the kid had stopped calling him Mr. Winter, right?

Kate stomped up to Bucky and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m just as old as Peter. Why is _he_ second in command?”

“Because someone needs to keep an eye on Peter,” Bucky said. “He’s kind of a disaster, if you haven’t noticed.”

She inclined her head slightly. “Point.”

Kate whirled and slipped past him onto the jet, following Peter closely.

After everyone was settled aboard the quinjet and Sam had lifted off, Bucky, and Clint returned to Friday, Clint helping Claudia on the way. She was secured, but the Power kids still eyed her warily, and frankly, Bucky couldn’t blame them.

“So here’s the plan,” Bucky said.

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

The plan was simple. In fact, Bucky thought he might make KISS his life motto.

They went straight to the Powers building, landing on the roof, at which point the kids demonstrated something that would prove useful to superheroes all over the world if only they had the same technology the kids had access to.

Bucky wondered if Friday would be amenable to sharing that. Then wondered if Friday _should._

“Costumes off,” the four of them spoke in near unison, a black swirl appearing at their heads and moving down their bodies. Almost instantly, their brightly colored spandex was replaced by outfits more befitting little kids and Clint was whistling appreciatively.

“Now _that’s_ a fancy little trick,” he said.

“Comes in pretty handy,” Alex said. “Especially since the costume is the only thing that stays on when Jack goes cloudy.”

“Oh, eww, I bet that was awkward when you discovered that,” Clint laughed lightly. “Okay, you ready to reunite with your parents?”

Jack groaned. “Mom’s not gonna let go for a _week_.”

He didn’t _actually_ look upset about that.

“Friday, will you be okay up here with…” Bucky looked over at Leech and Artie, still huddled together, and Claudia who was still bound, sitting as far from the children as she could.

<<I will alert you or Clint in the unlikely event I need assistance.>>

“Thanks,” Clint said, patting the wall. “And thanks for agreeing to help us out with, y’know, everything.”

<<Of course. You helped the children in their time of need.>>

Together, they trooped over to the roof access door and went inside, and before Bucky knew it, they stood before the apartment door, the kids standing behind him and Clint. He could _feel_ them shifting behind him as he knocked, ready to surge forward, but for the sake of their identities, they had to keep up appearances.

And children who were kidnapped didn’t normally unkidnap themselves.

It seemed to take a long time for the door to creek open just a peek, and Jim Power’s face appeared in the crack, looking even more worn down and haggard than before.

“Dr. Power – we have good news –“ Bucky started to say.

Jim’s eyes widened, hope bloomed over his face and he ripped the door open wide to see past Bucky and Clint.

“Kids?” he asked, his voice wobbling.

“Dad!” they shouted, squeezing past Clint and Bucky who quickly made room for them to get by. Jim fell to his knees in the doorway as the children swarmed him. His eyes watered but his smile was bright.

“Margaret!” he shouted. “Margaret, they’re home!”

She appeared in the hall, still clutching the same stuffed animal as the last time. She stuttered to a halt, her eyes wary. Then she gasped, dropped the toy and rushed forward. Katie flung herself at her mom with a joyful cry just as Margaret dropped into the pile at the door.

Bucky and Clint let themselves enjoy the scene, the satisfaction of being able to help this family, just for a moment before Bucky felt like he was intruding on something private. By the hand on his elbow urging him to back away, Clint felt the same.

They made it no more than 2 steps and a turn away when a hand grasped his arm. The word “Wait,” was a soft, choked sound and Bucky froze, his breath stopping. He threw a quick glance at Clint, saw the parted lips and the closed eyes, and he took Clint’s hand in his, squeezing it briefly before turning to face the children’s mother.

“Thank you, thank you both for bringing them home to us,” she said, tears flowing freely and unashamedly down her face. She had Katie’s hand in her own, the little girl pressed up close to her mother.

It was hard to remember that this child was the same one who escaped a high-tech facility filled with agents, that she had saved the world on at least one occasion.

She looked like a normal child, when she and her siblings were anything but.

Bucky swallowed, giving her a nod and a gruff, “Of course.”

Margaret turned bright, watery eyes on Clint. “Bless you both.”

Gathering Katie up in her arms, Katie snuggling down into the embrace, Margaret turned away again, joining the rest of the family as they headed inside. A few of them waved before the door shut on the scene, leaving Clint and Bucky alone in the hall.

Clint was breathing hard, his fingers squeezing Bucky’s tight. “Clint? You all right?” Bucky asked softly.

“They’re kids, Bucky,” Clint said. “They shouldn’t be… and we _let_ them… they could have gotten _hurt_.”

“Hey, hey no, we didn’t put them into that position.” Bucky let go of Clint’s hand and grabbed Clint by the shoulders, turning Clint to face him and standing toe to toe with him. “They’re good kids, and we didn’t give them their powers, but they’re going to use them. We can’t stop that. We didn’t put them in any kind of position, they took it on their own and they did _good.”_

_“_ But – “ Clint’s eyes were wild.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t look out for them, though,” Bucky said. “And if not us, you know Sam will, Scott too. A few others. They’re not out in the world alone. We know they’re out there, now, doll, they’ll be okay.”

Bucky bumped their heads together and Clint slumped into his grip, eyes closing, letting his breath out shakily. He nodded against Bucky’s head.

“Okay, yeah, okay…” Clint whispered.

“C’mon, let’s get outta here. We got a few more kids to save yet,” Bucky said gently after a few more minutes.

As much as he wanted to just hold Clint in his arms, all he could think of were those two scared boys huddling together on the ship, of the pit of fear and anxiety and hopelessness that had driven Claudia to measures no one should have to take because legal channels had failed her and her sister.

And he knew that Clint wouldn’t rest either till he could take care of them.


	11. No Child Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another rescue mission. Except, well, it's kinda the same day and this one isn't sanctioned.
> 
> Like that would stop either Clint or Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for this chapter - direct mentions and evidence of child abuse (behavior). One additional note about that at the end notes if you need it
> 
> P.s.   
> i'm retroactively adding this whole fic towards my Kate Bishop square because i started writing it after i got my card and she pushed her way in, no matter how briefly - but she's definitely in multiple chapters when i hadn't even expected her to be in one. Sounds like it was meant to be, right?

While they were in flight, Clint called Fury about Leech and Artie. Artie still hadn’t said a word, but he definitely kept Leech calm. The two were close, and Bucky was glad they at least had each other.

He wondered if that had been a friendship made in their captivity, or if the boys had known each other before.

Bucky sat in one of the front seats, watching the scenery pass by as Friday flew. It wouldn’t take long to get to where Claudia’s parents and sister lived, and at least this time, there was no risk of anyone really getting hurt.

Unless her parents had a few surprises of their own, but from what he pieced together from Claudia’s descriptions, there really wouldn’t be.

Clint was frowning when he got off the phone, a crease appearing between his eyes that Bucky hadn’t realized had started to ease over the past few days until it returned. He didn’t like it. He most _definitely_ didn’t like it. Before the thought had even finished crossing his mind, Bucky was at Clint’s side, reaching out for him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, hoping Clint could pick it up. “The kids – “

“Leech and Artie don’t seem to belong to anyone, they’re not the problem. I’ll be taking them on a custodial basis while Fury has someone check into the matter before pushing some paperwork through. After I check with them first, make sure they’re okay with it.” Clint sighed, his eyes flicking towards where Claudia was slumped in a chair and Bucky tensed.

“What?”

“Fury did not approve of our plan, saying that Avengers don’t get involved in domestic issues,” Clint bit out.

It was Bucky’s turn to frown. “This is way more than a domestic issue. Her powers alone – “

“You don’t have to argue the point with me,” Clint said.

“Now what?”

“Fury wants us to bring her in for assessment.”

“You’re not going to,” Bucky said, not even a question in his mind about that.

Clint flashed him a wry smile. “Fuck no, ain’t happening. The kid needs help, not an interrogation.”

“Don’t think she’s actually a kid,” Bucky noted.

“She’s younger than both of us. She’s a damn kid,” Clint insisted.

Bucky chuckled and shook his head. “If you say so, doll.”

Clint grumbled something about humoring him, with a soft glare at Bucky who only grinned back. Turning towards the front of the ship, but without moving away, Clint looked over their destination – a run down house that had seen better days. Looking around, he tried to spot a place for Friday to land.

“How long can you keep hovering like this?” he asked.

<<Not long,>> Friday answered. <<Not without being noticed, even with the cloaking on.>>

“Right, probably kicking up some wind and shit,” Clint acknowledged. “Is that a park over there? We can land there, then sneak in at night when everyone’s sleeping.”

Bucky nodded. “That sounds good. These are civilians, too, so we shouldn’t have any issues.”

Clint shrugged. “Well, not from _them_ anyway.”

“Fury’s going to know it was us,” Bucky pointed out.

“Can’t be helped,” Clint said.

“Won’t he just come to the farm?”

“Nah. It’s a domestic issue,” Clint said, smirking. “Not worth Avengers time, right? So why would he chase me down over it?”

“Sneaky,” Bucky said, his grin spreading from ear to ear.

Clint smirked back. “I was a spy, once upon a time.”

<<We have landed.>> Friday broke in.

“Thank you, Friday,” Bucky said. “Now all we gotta do is wait till nightfall. Me and Claudia will go in while you watch our backs.”

“Right, and while we wait, I’m gonna talk to Leech and Artie and give Laura a heads up,” Clint said firmly. He stepped back and Bucky’s arm fell away from Clint. Bucky felt the loss immediately, though he hadn’t even realized he’d still been touching the other man.

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

Bucky didn’t really want to bring Claudia with him, but he knew he could come off as pretty scary (he had _no_ illusions about that) and expecting an abused child to simply leave with a complete stranger was a bit much.

Claudia pointed out where her sister’s bedroom was and Bucky nodded, noting the tree right outside it. He gave it an assessing look and decided it could more than easily hold his weight at window level and strode forward. With one hand on the trunk, he looked at Claudia and raised an eyebrow and jerked his head towards the tree.

She nodded and Bucky wasted no more time in scaling the trunk and making his way out over the thickest branches to the window and peering in. He probably didn’t look nearly as graceful as Clint could have, but he got there in the end and that was all that mattered.

Though he was suddenly flooded with the idea of just watching Clint move. Not even naked or sexy or anything like that, but just… doing _anything_. Clint had this strange, graceful movement even when he was clumsy, and it was endearing as hell to watch.

Now was not the time.

Bucky shook his head, his eyes easily adjusting to the dark as he looked through the slit in the window curtains. They weren’t anything fancy, just dull, flat things that hung in a straight line, but they were enough to obscure his sightlines.

If this were an actual op with potential for real danger, then Bucky might be worried about that. As it was, he couldn’t imagine anything too terrible being on the other side of those curtains. The scrape of shoes, a rustle of leaves and the sound of panting alerted him without looking that Claudia was making her way up the tree. She was going as silently as she could, he was sure, and for this, that would work, so he didn’t say anything.

He pointed toward the window and spoke softly. “You sure this is her room?”

Claudia didn’t risk speaking, just nodded firmly, looking offended at being questioned. But hey, all the people who’d been returned after the snap had found themselves, for the most part, displaced. This likely wasn’t even the same house it had been – hell, they were probably lucky to have _gotten_ a house - and Claudia had mentioned that she’d not been welcome to return ‘home’ when her sister was taken from her.

Bucky reached for the windowsill and tested the window. It didn’t budge, but a closer look showed… that it was locked on the outside and a chill ran through him.

You didn’t lock the outside of anything to keep someone safe, but to keep someone captive. Visions flashed before his eyes of the war, of Zola, of HYDRA and he had to close his eyes and just breathe.

“Bucky, everything good?” Clint’s voice was in his ear and Bucky let out a breath. Of course Clint picked up on the change in his breathing. Clint was a spy, once, and he’d done how many missions for SHIELD? With Nat?

He was probably an expert at all sorts of cues both verbal and visual, probably had all the tells of everyone he worked with (and some he didn’t) memorized.

It was part of what made him so good, Bucky realized.

Shaking it off, Bucky opened his eyes, reached for the window lock and flipped it up. “Yeah, I’m good.” He eased the window up in the casement, wincing as it squeaked a little on the way up. He held still after he reached the top and listened carefully.

The rest of the house was silent.

So was the bedroom, as a matter of fact. Too quiet. Not even the sound of breathing. He waited another minute or two and – there it was – whoever was in the room was awake and had definitely noticed the window opening. They’d held their breath but they hadn’t run or screamed or anything.

Why?

Bucky edged the curtains open and looked around. There, sitting on the bed, bundled tight in her blanket in the corner, eyes wide and staring right at him, was a little girl, about 10.

Claudia’s sister.

“Shhh,” Bucky said, holding a finger in front of his mouth. “You’re Claudia’s sister, Amy, right?”

She nodded a little uncertainly, still wary.

“We’re here to rescue you,” Bucky said, waving at Claudia to move closer. She edged carefully over the branch, Bucky reaching out to steady her until she could poke her head in and wave at the girl on the bed.

“Claudia!” she exclaimed before clapping her hand over her mouth and looking fearfully at the door.

Bucky strained his ears but heard nothing. “C’mon kid, grab a bag, grab anything you wanna keep and let’s get you outta here.”

Claudia moved forward to help and Bucky quickly moved his arm to block the window. He shook his head. “No, you stay here in case we need to get out of here quickly. I’ll help her, now that she knows I’m okay.”

While Bucky sized up the window and wondered if he’d actually fit, Amy was already moving, dragging a bag out of her closet and stuffing it with clothes. The way she moved, Bucky could see this was something she’d practiced. Despite that, she kept glancing at the door as she stumbled about. Every second passing was making her more and more anxious, more clumsy.

Bucky ducked his head, climbing through the window with a grunt, scraping his shoulders as he did.

He was at her side as soon as he was through and she flinched back, knocking into a small table. Something hit the ground – a lamp, he thought, from the loud crash it made - and she froze. From the tree outside the window, Claudia squeaked and covered her mouth.

There was a sound deeper in the house and Bucky’s head shot towards the door. Amy started to shake. If Bucky had any doubts that he and Clint were doing the right thing, those doubts were abolished at the sight of how scared the child was – not of Bucky, a stranger in her room, but of the people she _lived with_ , her own goddamn _parents._

“Did you get everything you wanted?” he asked out of the corner of his mouth, ears trained on the approaching, heavy footsteps.

Amy bit her lip, reached under her bed and grabbed a second bag, this one already packed, then a plushie from her bed.

Bucky ushered her to the window, grabbing the clothing bag as she slipped her backpack on. He dropped it to the ground outside her window and helped her over the sill and into her sisters waiting arms. Amy sniffled as they hugged and Bucky glanced behind him.

“Go _, now_ ,” he urged them.

The steps were getting closer. If the kids were going to get away, better the focus be on _him_ , who could fight back.

Also, better the suspicion be on a strange man then the authorities go looking for Claudia. He was still in his gear, but he’d thrown a hoody over it to be less recognizable, and he drew the hood up and over his face while Claudia helped Amy down the tree.

“Bucky, why are you still inside?” Clint’s voice buzzed over his com. Was that a hint of worry? Bucky would like to think so. Even though he could more than handle himself, the idea that Clint worried about him, thought about him in any way like that, made Bucky feel _warm._

“We’ve got company. Get Claudia and her sister back safe while I distract their parents,” Bucky said. “I’ll catch up with you as soon as you give me the all clear.”

“Stay safe, Bucky,” Clint said.

Bucky faced away from the door, listening to the scrape of a key in the lock – _fuck, they hadn’t just locked the window, but the door too?_ – and said, “I’ll be fine. They ain’t exactly HYDRA, doll.”

“Hey, take it from me, shit just happens,” Clint said, and then the door was opening.

The figure in the doorway froze for a split second and then it – _his_ – eyes narrowed and he growled. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in Amy’s room?”

“Taking away the second chance you’ve wasted,” Bucky growled back.

“If you’ve touched her – “ the man started, stomping forward with his fists clenched and raised.

Bucky laughed humorlessly. “From what I hear, you and your wife touch her plenty yourself.” He easily ducked the first blow and swept out a leg. He had to be careful, not do anything that could identify him as an Avenger.

Fury might _know_ it was them, because in Fury’s world there’s no such thing as coincidences, but Bucky didn’t plan to give him _proof_ of it.

“Why the _hell_ would you have kids if you’re just gonna beat them and terrorize them?” Bucky gritted out, letting the anger that had been building since he’d unlocked the window _fill_ his voice. The man swung again and Bucky dodged, stuck out a foot to trip him and shoved at the man’s head, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Bucky then grabbed the guy’s shirt and yanked him off the floor, trusting in the lowered hoody and the low lighting to preserve his anonymity.

“You don’t deserve to have kids, pal. You’re a monster. Let me paint a picture here. It makes you feel good to knock around people who are helpless against you, lets you feel powerful, and you’ve been doing it to your own damn kids, kids who would have loved you just because they were yours, and you twisted something good into a nightmare, became their own personal boogyman.”

The guy scrabbled at Bucky’s hand but couldn’t dislodge him, and Bucky gripped tighter with his right hand.

“You – you have no right,” he croaked out.

“Neither do you, so I’m here to relieve you of that right,” Bucky said, dropping him to the floor. Had they managed to get out of the tree yet? Had he made enough noise to cover their escape?

Frightened, angry, and yet, undeterred, the man kicked at Bucky and Bucky swore when he connected with Bucky’s shins.

“They’re out of the tree, Bucky,” Clint said as Bucky watched the guy scramble heavily to his feet. “I’ve got them and we’re heading for the park. Just another minute and we’ll be out of sight.”

Right. He could manage that. Damn, this would be so much easier if he just knocked the guy out.

Well, why didn’t he? He wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore, he could pull his punches so it wouldn’t kill the man, no matter what he deserved. He’d done it with Carmody, hadn’t he?

He stepped closer, just as a woman’s voice called out. “George? Aren’t you _done_ yet?”

The voice came closer and the man – George – opened his mouth, his eyes darting to the door, no doubt to yell. Bucky closed his hand around his throat – carefully – and proceeded to gently knock him out.

He almost snorted at that. As if there were nice ways to hurt people. He ghosted silently across the room and was back through the window before the woman reached the door. He didn’t even bother with the tree, just dangled from his fingers from the ledge and let go for a soft landing.

And in case she thought to look out the window, he moved in the opposite direction of the park, first making sure the sisters hadn’t left any traces behind.

He was two houses away when she screamed.

Bucky felt grim satisfaction sliding through him, but he didn’t slow his pace one bit.

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

He walked for over an hour as Friday monitored the police band before turning around and heading for the park, stopping at a local coffee shop on the way back. He grabbed 2 coffees and four hot chocolates. Kids liked hot chocolate, right?

Climbing on board, with the overloaded drink carrier balanced delicately in one hand, Bucky amended his thoughts to remind himself that Claudia wasn’t a kid. Young, yes, but not a kid.

Oh well. She wasn’t getting his coffee, and _definitely_ not Clint’s. Bucky was sure the man couldn’t survive without it.

“Oh, you are a godsend,” Clint breathed when Bucky passed out the drinks, giving Clint’s his first. Bucky flushed, mumbled something that was garbled even to himself, and moved on.

Amy was in Claudia’s lap, fast asleep, her hands fisted tightly to Claudia’s shirt while Claudia’s head was ducked down, keeping her sister tucked in close. Bucky stood awkwardly for a moment before setting two cups down on the floor beside them.

Claudia looked up and smiled her thanks and Bucky just nodded.

Artie and Leech were still cuddled together, but they were looking much more relaxed now when Bucky knelt beside them.

“You boys want some hot chocolate?”

They blinked their huge eyes at him uncomprehendingly. Bucky stared. Had they never had hot chocolate before, or were they so unused to kindness that it sounded like a foreign language to them?

Either was a heartbreaking prospect.

God, this whole fucking mission had been heartbreaking in so many ways.

It was gonna end in more heartbreak for him too. When this mission was over and Clint no longer had a reason to be out in the field and Bucky would no longer have an excuse to be near him…

Yeah, this had gone swell. Good going, Bucky.

Keeping the bitterness off his face was something long practiced, way back when, when Stevie had first fallen in love with Peggy. Fuck, why did Bucky keep falling for disaster blondes who loved elsewhere?

“Here,” Bucky said gently, pressing a cup into each of their hands. “Sip it carefully, cause it’s hot. But I think you’ll like it.”

“Thank you,” Leech said. His voice didn’t seem as croaky as earlier and Bucky smiled. It was a good sign. Artie still didn’t speak, but he sipped at his hot chocolate warily, then smiled, the grin lighting up his face as he bumped into Leech and urged him to try his own.

Leech did, his own smile a wide beaming thing that pleased Bucky to his core.

They’d done good today, hadn’t they?

They’d rescued a number of kids, seen a few of them reunited directly and were helping more.

Then the ship shuddered, so slightly, he didn’t think anybody else would have felt it, but Bucky’s heart sank.

Friday’s next destination would be Clint’s farm. And that’s where it would all end.

Bucky took one of the seats near the front window, though he took care not to touch the controls. His awareness of Clint’s whereabouts on the ship drowned out his normal anxiety. Or maybe flying was better because – even though it wasn’t Sam in the pilot’s seat - he’d already worked so hard to be okay with it.

Still, Clint was leaning against the wrap around window beside his chair and looking at Bucky with an unreadable expression, his coffee cradled near reverently in his hands.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, it’s why I’m asking you,” Clint said.

“Maybe I should be asking you,” Bucky countered, unwilling to delve into the feelings that wouldn’t be reciprocated. “Doesn’t all of this hit a little too close to home?”

Clint looked away, past Bucky and out the front window. He was quiet a long while and Bucky regretted the question.

Sighing, Clint shook his head and looked down, but still not at Bucky, as he answered. “Yeah, well, sure. But, it’s over. We got through it with zero casualties and the kids are safe and home and…” he glanced around the cabin, Bucky following his gaze though all he wanted was to stare at Clint. Clint looked at the two boys drinking their hot chocolate and giggling to themselves, then to where Claudia rocked Amy, singing softly under her breath. “And in the end, we’ve got a few of them who’ll be going into a better situation then they started in.”

“You seriously taking them all back to the farm to live with you? Four extra mouths to feed?” Bucky asked.

Clint looked at him, his back stiffening up and his eyes flashing defiantly. “Yeah, absolutely serious.”

“And Laura – she’s just gonna be okay with that?” Bucky asked incredulously. His mom was generous as could be, even with – or maybe especially because – times being as tough as they were, but even she could raise a stink about unexpected surprises.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve brought home a stray, sure it won’t be the last,” Clint said.

“Nat?” Her name slipped out without thinking and Bucky cursed himself for asking.

Clint looked at Bucky and didn’t say anything, just giving him a crooked half smile and Bucky let the subject drop, but not before he reached and to catch Clint’s hand briefly and give it a squeeze in apology.

His fingers lingered longer than they should have but less than he wanted to before he finally made himself drop Clint’s hand.

Bucky went back to staring out the window, waiting for them to arrive at the farm and the inevitable parting.

He’d move on, like he always had. Keep going, day after day, because what else could he do? Bucky didn’t give up, he just… stepped out of the way.

He’d had a bit of practice at that.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, when Bucky and George are 'talking', the 'touching the kids' bit is referring to beatings not sexual abuse.


	12. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday lands at the Barton farm and Clint and Laura are opening their doors to make room for a few more folks...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're so damn close to the end, that i'm finding myself dithering on where, exactly, to end it. i have another chapter completely written that ends on a note that sounds like it would be a good ending, but at the same time, i feel like there's one more scene i need to get to and i haven't yet even though THAT's Partially written already too, so i'm debating it. 
> 
> This, boys and girls, is where having an Alpha would come in handy lol...

They’d gone after Amy about midnight, and Friday didn’t take long to get to Clint’s farm after Bucky finally returned to the ship. Which meant it was just after 1am when they make their final approach, except, time zones, so it was actually closer to midnight. Again.

Either way, it meant small, tired children and a farm house that was completely asleep.

Friday landed and the ramp opened. Clint jumped up.

“Give me a couple of minutes, all right? I don’t want Laura thinking there’s a break in,” Clint said.

“That’s reasonable,” Bucky conceded.

Clint sprinted down the ramp, bow across his back and bag in his hand. Bucky watched him cross the ground in an easy pace, take the porch steps in a single bound and then, after briefly fiddling with the door, disappearing inside.

A few lights turned on, and Bucky tracked Clint’s progress through the house. For some reason, his stomach was twisting nervously.

Even though Laura had ‘given permission’ for the things he and Clint had done together, he felt sure she didn’t realize how thoroughly Bucky would fall, and he was afraid the moment she looked at him, she’d know and… he wasn’t even sure what. Be upset? Pity him? however she reacted, he was sure it wouldn’t be good. Like he could have stopped himself.

It was stupid but… he couldn’t help that either.

It seemed to take way too long for Clint to return, and when he did, Laura was at his side, tying a bathrobe around her waist. She seemed entirely unbothered by the ship in her yard in the middle of the night, hurrying right up the ramp alongside Clint.

“Bucky,” Laura said, smiling at him as she surprised him with a hug. He twitched a little before returning it, Clint looking amused, watching them softly. “I’m glad to see you, safe and sound.”

“Ah, thank you,” Bucky said, flushing a bit.

“Laura, these are the sisters, Claudia and Amy,” Clint said once Laura had let go of Bucky. “I figure we’ll give them the guest bedroom to share together, at least for now. Later, after they’ve settled in, Lila might not mind sharing her room with Amy.”

Laura nodded and Clint turned to the corner of the ship Artie and Leech had been huddled in. Somehow, in the short space of time between where they’d been and now, the boys had finished their hot chocolate and, against all odds of children with sugar freshly inputted into their systems, had fallen asleep.

Then again, it had been a long day and had likely been a terrifying couple of weeks, even if they were physically unharmed, and that was enough to tire out an adult, much less a child. That they felt safe enough to fall asleep despite the uncertainties and changes going on around them was… was good, actually, and Bucky felt a pang. The weirdly good sort of pang that came from staring at something beautiful too long.

“That’s Leech and that’s Artie. I don’t think they’re actually related, but they’re pretty inseparable. We could probably set them up with bunk beds in the boys’ room, but for tonight, I think we could set something up in the playroom?”

“Already done,” Laura said with a smirk.

Clint grinned and nodded at Bucky. “Help me with the boys?”

He didn’t even have to ask. Bucky gathered Leech into his arms, feeling particularly connected with the boy while Clint picked up Artie. Leech mumbled something and Artie snuggled down deep into Clint’s arms and Bucky felt that odd pang again.

Laura had already grabbed Amy and Claudia’s things - bags hanging from her shoulders and arms every which way - while Claudia stood with Amy drooling on her shoulder, the little girls’ arms wrapped around Claudia’s neck.

“Follow me,” she said quietly. Claudia picked her way down the ramp after her, followed by Clint and then Bucky.

Bucky paused at the bottom of the ramp for a split second, struck with the thought that he should thank Friday again, but shook his head. He’d be back in a little bit anyway, after the kids were settled.

Therefore, he was more than a little startled when, a mere few feet away from the ship, he felt the wind pick up and he turned to see Friday having taken to the air.

Had… Friday just absconded with all his things? He made an aborted move in that direction, then shook his head and turned back to the farmhouse. Whether they had or not didn’t matter in that moment. Leech was more important.

He followed the little train of people into the house and stepped softly. Laura set down a bag just inside the door, then led Claudia and Amy up the stairs while Clint peeled off through the living room and Bucky followed.

There was a short hallway and at the end was a room he hadn’t seen before, with a chalkboard wall and another wall filled with bookshelves and a third holding bins of toys. It had been cleaned and an air mattress covered with sleeping bags zipped together to form a giant blanket and covered in pillows set up in the center.

The blanket was already pulled aside and Clint knelt first, gently laying Artie down. Something formed above his head, broken, fragmented and both Clint and Bucky froze. They stared, as little clouds filled with images floated about Artie’s head, the clouds struggling to retain their form. Bucky stepped forward for a closer look and the clouds of images collapsed completely.

Clint and Bucky blinked at each other, then at the boys, Bucky remembering only then that Leech muted others powers. Right. Well, that didn’t matter right now either. The boys needed sleep. He resumed moving till he reached Clint’s side, then eased himself down so he wouldn’t disturb Leech as he gently laid him out on the air mattress. Nearly instantly, the two boys rolled towards each other and were cuddled up together before Clint finished pulling the combined sleeping bags over their small forms.

They tiptoed back out of the room, and Clint closed the door, leaving it open just a crack, then led Bucky back out to the living room.

“So uh, guess I’m crashing here on the couch, tonight?” Bucky said a little uncertainly.

Clint looked at him strangely, simply saying, “Sure, I’ll get you some things. Laura brought in your bag,” Clint said, nodding towards the door.

“Oh, thank fuck, I thought Friday took off with that,” Bucky said, forcing a light chuckle. He felt anything but relieved or amused. He wanted to hold Clint in his arms. He wanted to sleep in the same bed, but now they were here, and there was no more reason for Clint to accept any of Bucky’s affections.

His throat felt thick as he took his bag and changed in the downstairs bathroom. When he returned, Clint had already set up the couch as a bed. He hovered at the foot of the stairs, waiting for Bucky.

“Hey, thanks, Clint,” Bucky said, then lifted his bag. “There someplace safe to put this?”

It had more than a few weapons in it and there were now a fair number of children in the house, which was just a disaster waiting to happen and Bucky had no intention of letting it.

“Yeah, give it here,” Clint said.

Their hands met and Bucky flushed at the tingle it sent through him as Clint took his bag. He almost said something, it looked like Clint wanted to, but then he hefted the bag to his shoulder – Clint was always stronger than folks believed – gave Bucky a nod and climbed the stairs, leaving Bucky alone in near darkness.

It hurt, for some reason, when Bucky was relegated once more to the couch even though he had been preparing himself for this eventuality the whole damn time. He _knew_ this was coming. He’d been expecting it, really. All the rooms were taken and where else did Bucky expect Clint to go except with Laura?

Just because they’d had something going on the road, didn’t mean there was room for Bucky.

There was never room for Bucky.

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

Bucky was woken early by childish shrieks of surprise and happy chatter, little feet running overhead. His head pounded from the lack of sleep he’d gotten, having slept fitfully all night. He’d missed Clint, missed his warmth, the calloused fingers, the scruff of his unshaved chin. Missed the playful banter and their legs tangling together and the sleepy kisses they had shared.

It had been such a short time and yet it had felt like _everything._

Bucky rubbed a hand over his face, stood, then joined the whole kit and kaboodle in the kitchen, Clint stumbling in mere seconds later. Leech and Artie were once more wary as they stood amongst all these strangers, their bodies shaking minutely, but Clint’s kids, for all their boisterousness so early in the morning, welcomed _all_ their new guests, even Artie and Leech, and eventually the shaking stopped.

This would be a good home for them, for them all, Bucky thought. It would be safe and it would be warm and filled with good – make that _amazing –_ food, and best of all, no judgement.

Bucky spent the day with the Barton’s as they got used to the newcomers, Artie and Leech sometimes taking refuge with Bucky, quickly learning they’d have to get used to sharing that space with Clint’s youngest.

When he wasn’t playing babysitter – which, Bucky was really starting to find he didn’t actually mind – while everyone got to know each other, Clint showed him where he’d put Bucky’s bag and then he and Clint went out to the workshop to gather what they needed to make a couple of bunkbeds.

He helped Clint with the task, which took several hours longer than he expected. Then again, Clint was making these from scratch.

God, that man was good with his hands.

Bucky observed, mostly, over the course of the day. Amy was shy, Claudia was disbelieving and Artie and Leech easily overwhelmed but despite that, the four of them were settling in. There were some rough edges still, that only time would soften, but the day only proved to Bucky that they’d thrive here.

By the end of the day, he was positive he wasn’t needed to help them acclimate, and he wasn’t wanted, as proved by the couch being made up the second night in a row – this time, without having to ask.

He slept even more poorly – which really meant, not at all – and for the second time, he found himself in the Barton’s kitchen in the middle of the night. He sat at the table drinking coffee and was almost startled by the shuffling noise of someone joining him in the kitchen.

The shuffling paused. “Can’t sleep?”

Bucky shrugged, not really looking at Laura. What could he tell her? That in the extremely short time they’d been gone, he’d gone and fallen in love with her husband? That he missed Clint’s presence in his bed, just sleeping, a solid warmth that enveloped him.

A cabinet opened, shut. The tap ran and then she was settling at the table with him, a glass of water more sensibly in her hands then a mug of coffee.

“Thank you for bringing him home,” she said softly, as if she hadn’t already said as much when they’d arrived earlier that day. “And thank you for being there for him.”

Bucky looked up in surprise. Laura was looking at him earnestly and his chest tightened with guilt. Because he wished he hadn’t brought Clint home, that Clint would have stayed with Bucky. But Bucky liked Laura, her generous and kind spirit, and he couldn’t have done that to her.

“I didn’t do anything,” Bucky said gruffly. He clutched at the mug like a lifeline.

“Oh sweetie,” she said softly. She leaned forward slowly – she’d have experience, he realized, approaching traumatized folks – and brushed some hair out of his face, taking away his barrier so she could catch his eyes. What did she see there? Did she see his selfishness? The band on his chest grew tighter. “You _did._ And whatever you did, Clint is… _lighter_ than when he’d left. He’s more open, more ready to be approached than before, to _touching_.”

She dropped her hand after tucking the bit of hair behind his ear and his eyes were caught on her, noticing what he hadn’t let himself notice before: the love bites on her neck, her hair – more than sleep mussed - the fact that she was wearing panties and Clint’s tee shirt and nothing else (certainly not what she’d gone to bed in) and a wave of jealous resignation, of deep sadness washed through him.

He closed his eyes. Clint and Laura didn’t deserve that.

Eventually Laura left, returning to Clint – was he sleeping? Bucky hoped so, he needed it – and Bucky was left to think on things. He’d come along without really thinking about it, straight from all the rescuing to bring Claudia, Amy, Leech and Artie to the farm and get them settled in, but what could he _really_ do? Clint and Laura already had 3 kids, and were old hands at handling children.

Bucky would just be in the way if he stayed here.

Friday had already left, however, so Bucky had no transportation back to New York. Something shattered, and he looked down at his hands blankly. The mug was in pieces across the table, soaking in the now spilled coffee and bits of Bucky’s own blood from cuts that were already closing up.

Shit. He was a disaster.

The cuts healed before he even finished pushing his chair back.

Standing, Bucky cleaned up the mess and glanced at the clock. It was almost 4am and if this morning was any indication, the kids – at least – would be up in a few hours. Perhaps now would be the best time to take his leave? Before everything became too chaotic?

He tiptoed to where his bag was stashed and was redressed and packed in a matter of minutes. Shouldering his bag, he slipped out of the house quietly. He’d left a note pinned to the fridge. This wasn’t good bye. Bucky was sure he’d be back, but right now he needed to get his head on straight, and he couldn’t do that with a constant reminder of everything he wanted but he couldn’t have dangled in front of him.

He’d been walking for three and a half hours at a steady pace when he heard the car coming up behind him. Bucky thought nothing of it. After all, it wasn’t the only car that had been on the road, even that early in the morning, but then the car slowed and Bucky tensed.

The car pulled up alongside him and matched his pace, the window rolling down. Bucky glanced over and blinked.

“Laura?” he said, halting.

The car stopped too and she leaned across the seats.

“There a reason you decided to hoof it back to New York on foot?” she called.

Bucky shrugged, shifted his bag. “Seemed like everything was all set. And I thought a cross country trip could be fun.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You thought you weren’t needed or wanted and you left.”

He opened his mouth and closed it again on her glare. What could he say? It wasn’t like she was wrong. He should have known the woman that Clint settled down with would be as perceptive as this.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Seriously, why am I saddled with idiots like this?” Laura muttered. If Bucky’s ears hadn’t been enhanced, he’d never have heard her, especially over the idling engine. “Get in the car,” she said, louder.

Hesitating, he looked away for a moment. He wanted to. God, he wanted to run right back to Clint, to a place that felt like it could so easily become his home, to a place that would give him the peace and quiet – well, maybe not _quiet_ with all those kids – he’d been longing for.

“James, please,” Laura said gently. “Just get in the car and come home, okay?”

At the word home, Bucky’s eyes teared up and a lump formed in his throat. Laura didn’t even know him, why would she be _offering_ this?

He should say no. Her calling it home didn’t mean it was _Bucky’s_ home. She could be saying that on reflex, it was _her_ home, after all.

Her coming after him… it could mean any number of things, but surely didn’t mean he was anything special.

But he was too weak to say no.

Bucky didn’t say anything – he was sure if he tried, he’d break open, the tears would fall free and he wasn’t ready for that level of vulnerability in front of Laura – but he opened the door and slid into the car, almost hugging his bag to his chest.

She looked at him sadly, but she smiled when he got in and she turned the car around, heading back to the farm. He wondered, briefly, why it was Laura and not Clint who’d come and got him, wondered if he should ask, what he’d be walking into…

But he couldn’t make his throat work.

She didn’t press on the drive back, giving Bucky time to compose himself before facing a houseful of folks. More than three hours of walking and they were back at the farm in a near instant.

Clint was waiting on the steps, simply sitting there, watching them come up as Laura pulled up close and parked. He stood and stepped down, reaching them just as they got out and shut the doors.

“That took longer than expected,” he said to Laura, but his eyes hadn’t left Bucky.

“He got pretty far,” Laura said.

“What can I say? Super soldier,” Bucky shrugged, trying to spread one of his old smirks over his face and pretend he wasn’t feeling anxious.

“Buck,” Clint said, coming closer. “Why’d you leave?”

Bucky swallowed, then shrugged. “Left a note. Said pretty much anything I was gonna say.”

The silence was tense for a moment before Clint turned slightly away from Bucky and Laura and inhaled. “Coop!” Clint yelled.

“Got it, dad!” the oldest boy shouted back across the yard.

Turning away completely, Clint started up the stairs, stopping at the top when Bucky didn’t follow him. “C’mon, I think we all need to talk.”


	13. Clearing Things Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky, Clint and Laura sit down to have a little talk...

Bucky swallowed as Clint disappeared into the house and Laura skimmed past him, a gentle touch – there and gone again – on his back, a murmur he almost didn’t hear, he was so lost in the storm inside him.

“It’s going to be fine, James.”

She disappeared right behind Clint and Bucky forced his feet to move, to follow them inside, to follow the sounds of them straight to the kitchen. The kitchen, he was slowly beginning to realize, was a mutual sanctuary for them, a comfort spot, as Clint went about it with easy familiarity, making them coffee, with a relaxion of the tension he almost always carried about him.

Laura pulled something out of the oven and unwrapped the foil, bringing it over to Bucky and placing it in front of him. “Since you missed breakfast, we saved you something. Go ahead and eat up while I help Clint with the coffee.”

Not that it was really a two-person task, but Bucky appreciated the moment to regain some equilibrium. Soon enough, they were setting down three mugs of steaming coffee, just as Bucky finished his meal. The two of them sat, bracketing him at one end of the table.

“You know, if you really do want to go,” Laura said a little sheepishly, “We won’t force you to stay. I _may_ have come on a little strong back there, I’m sorry.”

Bucky paused as he raised his coffee to his lips, unsure how to answer that. The truth was he _didn’t_ but want didn’t matter, because the real question was, did he _belong_?

Clint noticed his hesitation and a realization crossed his face. Bucky tried not to wince. Had he realized that Bucky had developed feelings for Clint? Had he realized, finally, just how one sided this was?

“He got in the car,” Clint said softly. “I almost forgot…Bucky…”

Laura looked between the quizzically. “I don’t understand – “

“I’m fine,” Bucky said gruffly, startled to realize it was true. He was surprised at himself. He hadn’t even noticed what he’d done. He’d been so preoccupied with other matters, with what he stood to _lose,_ what he might have _already_ lost, that what he’d done just hadn’t registered with him.

Clint reached over the table and took Bucky’s hand – the metal one, and Bucky cast a surprised glance down before dragging his gaze up and then flicking to Laura nervously and back again – with both his own, the warm contact almost too much.

“Hey, whatever you wanna do is cool with us, but you got in the car, and I can’t help thinking you really want to stay. Whether it’s just for a break, or if you want to retire for good, we’ll support you either way.”

Bucky’s fingers twitched in Clint’s hands and Clint made to move away, to let go and Bucky _couldn’t._ His hand spasmed again, this time to wrap around one of Clint’s and he swallowed.

He didn’t want to go.

Clint was right, his desire to stay was so strong that it had completely overrode his panic about not being the driver. And Clint was smart, could read between the lines easily. He probably remembered the conversation they had when they had first set out. Bucky _was_ tired, he _did_ want to walk away from it all, but he’d felt like not only was it impossible, but that he _couldn’t,_ like he owed people, and, and –

– and suddenly he understood Steve’s leaving and living out a life somewhere else without expectations so much more.

He swallowed again, a lump forming in his throat. He wanted this. _Needed_ this, even if Clint didn’t need _him_ anymore. Bucky didn’t think he was strong enough to walk away again no matter how much it might hurt to be this close to him and not _be_ with him.

“Please,” he croaked out. Another weight dropped onto his hand and he saw Laura’s had joined theirs.

“Of course, James,” she said softly. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

“How are you… both of you so…” Bucky choked. “You’ve opened your home to so many people. To _me_.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Laura asked.

She really meant that. Didn’t judge him by his past, by the things he’d done. She had to know at least some of it – the events of DC were broadly publicized, the accusations and ensuing manhunt that happened later had been too.

Hell, it was _his_ fault Clint had gotten locked up and put on house arrest. He’d torn the Avengers asunder just by existing.

She had to know all of this and yet she still trusted him to be in her home, around her children, her husband. She treated him like a person and not any of the other things that could so easily be applied to him.

Just like Clint had been.

Bucky’s vision wavered, blurred, and before he knew it, he was wrapped up in arms coming at him from both sides, Laura and Clint, holding him as tears ran down his face. He wasn’t sure when the last time he’d really cried like this was, outside of some early nightmares, or with his therapist.

This was different. This was so wholly different.

A part of him felt ashamed to be seen so weak and lost but the rest of him felt comfort in a way he never had before.

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

After that talk, some time to calm down, and a little bit of thought, Bucky took the time to make a couple of private calls – first to Sam, because Sam deserved that much, and then to Fury, to make it official.

Sam had simply said, “Good for you, man.”

Bucky had actually believed him. As much as they ragged on each other from time to time, he _liked_ Sam and they’d worked well together. But Sam also understood.

Fury was quiet when Bucky finished.

“And you’re ab-so-lutely sure about this?” Fury asked, dragging out nearly every word in that ‘are you shitting me’ tone he had. “This is your final decision?”

Steeling himself, Bucky said. “Yes.”

“About damn time,” Fury said. Bucky blinked, his mouth opened, but Fury kept talking. “But if you ever change your mind –“

“I’ll know who to call,” Bucky said.

“See that you do.”

The call ended and Bucky stared down at the phone, bemused. That… had gone much easier than he’d expected it to, honestly. Had it always been his choice all along?

Someone sat beside him on the porch steps, that hint of fragrance - just a bare touch of something that always seemed to cling to her, something pleasant though he had no idea what it was - was his clue as to who even before she spoke.

“How’d they take it?” Laura asked.

“Um… well, actually. Like… they were just waiting for it.”

She hummed a little, then knocked their shoulders together. “Wanna bake some cookies?”

He thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. “Why not?”

Standing when she did, Bucky followed her to the kitchen. The next few hours set the tone for the next week. Bucky split his time between the yard, the workshop and the kitchen – with the kids, with Clint, or with Laura.

The kids were adjusting well, though Bucky still had a soft spot for Leech. Any time spent with Clint was good, giving Bucky the illusion that they had _more_ than they had. Every little touch cherished, and all personal space seemingly nonexistent. It was almost enough, but he thought… maybe he could manage, could accept that, as long as he was allowed.

Time with Laura was also good, as they got to know one other. Bucky had expected to be jealous of her, of the fact that she got Clint and he didn’t. But it wasn’t like that. Laura was a good person with her own little flare ups with temper – she wasn’t perfect, and none of them were – and she welcomed him into her home. _Their_ home. It was his now, too, as they _both_ insisted any time he sounded hesitant about that.

More than once, he met one or the other of them in the kitchen in the middle of the night, and that was when he really felt like he got to know her better. Late night or early morning conversations – sometimes over coffee, or freshly baked cookies, reheated leftovers or, on the very rare occasion of a particularly bad night, even a little bit of alcohol.

“He wouldn’t touch me, before, when we came back from being… _gone_ ,” she said to him during just one such session only a few weeks after coming to stay there. She’d mentioned that before, he remembered idly, but he didn’t interrupt.

“When we came back… It was so _strange t_ o realize suddenly that something was different. There I was, in the same spot, unchanged, and at first, nothing looked any different. Same old farm, same old horizon. Target on the tree, the broken-down barn… But the house looked dark and empty. Everything was just a little bit off. The picnic table wasn’t the bright color it had been seconds before, the paint was peeling, the food was missing. The yard was overgrown, the house dark. And while the kids were all right there, _Clint_ was _nowhere_.”

“I knew in that moment, something bad had happened, even if I didn’t know what. The relief I felt when I heard his voice,” Laura’s voice shook. “The terror when he was cut off…”

Bucky winced sympathetically as he crossed the kitchen to her. She kept talking. “When he came home to me, to us, he was so _different_ , not just physically, but…”

Bucky placed a mug down in front of her, briefly touched her shoulder before sitting down beside her with his own.

“I tried to give him space, I tried to be supportive, but he was filled with such grief and shame and anger and he wouldn’t talk about it, could barely look me in the eyes and wouldn’t accept my comfort,” Laura said, looking up at Bucky with tears in her eyes, her hands wrapped around the warmth of the mug for her own comfort. He pressed closed, having learned she very much liked touch as a way of comfort and found he didn’t so much mind.

“It was… almost the same for me. I’d been in Wakanda, in battle. Then everything just seemed to _stop_. I’d been walking toward Steve and then I came back and he was gone. There was evidence of battle but the battlefield had overgrown, bodies were gone - time had clearly passed. That part, I was kinda used to, already, being… being used as a weapon for HYDRA. They froze me between missions so time always passed without me,” Bucky said, picking his words carefully. He wanted to share with her, but didn’t want to scare her either.

“And then I was thrust into battle again and when it was over… Steve was there. He looked older, and so damn tired. He looked… he just looked _done._ I thought I’d understood. Everyone was mourning Nat and Tony and I thought… but I didn’t. And then he left.”

“He left you behind,” Laura murmured. “Sometimes, even though Clint was here, he was so distant that I felt the same. He’s better, now. And I _know_ I owe that to you.”

Bucky shook his head, though this was not the first time she’d said this, either, but he still didn’t believe it. “Clint would have come around, without me or not.”

She hummed but didn’t disagree with him, just continued to drink her coffee. He didn’t ask her what he so desperately wanted to. He didn’t ask if her and Clint touched now, if they did _more_ than touch. He assumed they did, had seen marks occasionally, and it was none of his business anyway. If it left a longing in him, deep and aching, that was his own fault, his own issues.

God but Bucky still dreamt of Clint’s lips grazing over his skin, of Clint’s fingertips touching him gently and taking him apart. He woke up in the middle of the night as often from dreams of Clint, aching with need, as from the nightmares that had plagued him before.

Sometimes, Bucky wasn’t sure which he preferred. The nightmares were awful, yes, but they were also familiar territory, but Clint seemed so… unreachable now, that it was torture.

“James…” Laura said, her voice soft and hesitant in a way Bucky hadn’t heard yet. “Clint’s not off-limits to you, just because he’s home. You know that, right?”

Well, no he hadn’t, actually. Bucky swallowed and stared down at his mug, watched the steam rising up from it. He didn’t know what to say, wasn’t sure this wasn’t just an act of kindness, a sacrifice on her part on Clint’s behalf.

“You don’t have to be afraid of coming between us, because that’s not how we are,” Laura went on, reaching out to shift Bucky’s hair out of his face gently. His breath caught.

“I… wasn’t sure…” Bucky choked. “Clint never said…”

“Because sometimes,” Laura said, rolling her eyes, “Clint’s a dumbass. A loveable one, but a dumbass nonetheless. When you chose the couch that first night, he assumed you were done with him, when Clint was perfectly ready to offer up our bed. And Clint won’t push where he’s not wanted. Has a tendency to back off and lick his wounds or sulk. The question is, why did you pick the couch?”

Bucky shook his head. “I just assumed… what we’d been to each other would be over once he was home, here with you and his family. That he wouldn’t need me anymore like that. And even if I was wrong, how could I expect or imagine that you’d be okay with him inviting a near stranger into your bed?”

“But you weren’t,” she said, sincerity ringing clear in her voice. “I already knew about you, sure. Most people do these days. But I also met you, _here_ , in my own home and made my own judgement call, remember? And Clint would call me, and he’d talk about you, and I could hear what he said and what he didn’t say. He cares for you and I trust him. It would have been all right.”

She finished her coffee and stood, patting his hand. “I know that was a lot. I’ll let you think about things a bit. You know I’m here to talk whenever you want.”

Laura put away her mug and padded back up the stairs silently, leaving Bucky with his thoughts, his mind whirling, his coffee growing cold, before he shoved back his chair and – since there was no way he’d be falling back to sleep now - went for a run.

He left a note so they wouldn’t worry, then jogged out to the borders of the farm and picked up the pace. Bucky pushed himself hard as his thoughts whirled, the _what if’_ s and the _maybe_ ’s all wrapped up in hope curling around confusingly inside him. He wasn’t even sure why he was having such a hard time accepting this. He’d basically been given everything he could want, served up on a silver platter.

A home, a place with Clint, the idea that Clint cared for Bucky at all… and the knowledge that Laura wasn’t jealous, was more than okay with it, with _them_ even.

He came back from his run hours later, well after the sun had risen and so had the children. Laura was calmly making breakfast, though her eyes rose at the sweating, panting mess of a picture Bucky was sure he looked when he came in for a glass of water.

“You stink,” she said. “No breakfast for you till you take a shower.”

The kids giggled as she chided him. He looked at her with wide eyes.

She rolled hers and spoke more gently. “Don’t give me those baby blues,” she said, blushing a little and making Bucky pause. “Go on, and feel free to use ours upstairs. I’ll make sure this hoard uses the one down here so you don’t have to worry about rushing through your shower.”

He flushed a little, because he’d been doing exactly that when he wound up taking showers after everyone else was awake.

Gathering his things, he went up the stairs, feeling awkward and out of place. He didn’t come up here very often, as it almost felt like an intrusion on everyone’s private spaces if he did.

He resolutely ignored the fact that he didn’t have one, had never _really_ had one with one thing or another. Growing up, then living with Steve, the army, HYDRA – hell, he hadn’t exactly had his own private space until he’d gone to live in the tower and even _that_ didn’t feel private, not when there was an AI watching your every move.

The bathroom was at the end of the hall, the door standing open and he slipped inside, closing it behind him. He stripped down to his boxers before turning to the tub. The sputter of the pipes and sudden spray covered the quiet sound of the door opening, a small “ _oh”_ just barely catching his ears.

Whirling, Bucky found Clint standing there in a similarly half-dressed state, staring. His own motion set Clint to moving again but instead of turning around and leaving like Bucky expected, he closed the bathroom door behind him and turned the lock, all while licking his lips.

“Clint?”

Clint didn’t answer and Bucky realized Clint’s aids weren’t in his ears. His hair was sleep mussed, too. He must have just woken up.

Maybe that was why Clint didn’t seem to think twice before advancing on Bucky. Instead, Clint stepped forward and dropped to his knees on the fluffy purple bathmat and Bucky only had a split second to be grateful for the mat on Clint's behalf before Clint was leaning into him.

He looked up, eyes questioning and Bucky couldn’t answer properly, but he managed to shakily nod yes.

A wide, relieved grin spread over Clint’s face and Bucky realized that Clint had been just as worried about this as Bucky had, that Laura had been right.

Clint still wanted this.

Bucky did too and he couldn’t hold back the whimper when Clint nuzzled Bucky’s hardening cock through his boxers. He had to bite on his hand when Clint started mouthing at him, the material stretching with Bucky's arousal, wet with Clint's spit. He could feel the tantalizing heat of Clint’s mouth through the cloth and his hips twitched to get closer.

Clint’s hands were on his calves, fingers digging into the aching muscles and Bucky remembered that he stank.

“Clint,” he gasped, then groaned at his own stupidity because Clint couldn’t hear him. Bucky reached down and with fingers under his chin, Bucky gently tipped Clint’s head up – and nearly swore at the dilated pupils, the wet lips. “Fuck, I don’t exactly smell like a rose, doll. Let’s get under the spray first.”

“Don’t care, I think you smell good,” Clint said, grinning up at Bucky. Bucky’s stomach swooped at Clint’s words. “Could eat you up.”

Bucky’s breath caught, and Clint’s hands continued their slow journey up Bucky’s legs, massaging deeply the whole way. It felt damn good on the muscles he’d abused on his long, drawn out run, and he couldn’t hold back the deep groan.

Then groaned again when Clint resumed touching Bucky with his mouth.

“God, need to feel ya,” Bucky gasped out, shoving at his boxers. Clint moved back, gave him space, letting go of Bucky’s legs until the boxers hit the floor and then he was there again and Bucky’s back hit the wall when Clint’s mouth closed over him, his head smacking back seconds later with a loud thunk.

This was heaven, Bucky was sure, Clint’s mouth moving along his shaft, teasing his tip, then sucking him down deep.

“Fuck,” Bucky said. He couldn’t look down, didn’t _dare_ look down. The intensity and heat of Clint’s mouth, the care he was lavishing on Bucky’s legs, the fact that he was here, with Bucky, still _wanted_ Bucky - it was all almost too much, and he choked.

Clint’s fingers were a brand on his skin, his lips were goddamn magic and Bucky wasn’t going to last. He trembled beneath Clint’s attentions, rocked up into his mouth and _melted_ at the sounds that tumbled from Clint, the low moans sending vibrations through Bucky’s cock.

“Clint,” Bucky groaned, his name drawn out into gasps as Clint licked and sucked and teased. He dropped his hand onto Clint’s head, scrunched up the mohawk into his fist and tugged gently to catch Clint’s eyes, but didn’t pull him off.

“Nnnng… gonna, oh god, doll,” Bucky gasped, losing track of what he was trying to say. His hips shifted, thrusted and Clint swallowed around him, pressing down until he’d taken all of Bucky and swallowed again. His dick twitched in Clint’s mouth. “Fuck,” he said again.

Clint pulled back, leaving Bucky’s cock bare, nuzzling along the hard length. “So perfect,” Clint said, kissing along the shaft, featherlight touches a drastic counterpoint to the firmness of his fingers.

He’d finally reached the tops of Bucky’s thighs and Clint smirked as he continued to tease. Bucky whimpered, his hand clenching and unclenching in Clint’s hair.

As good as Clint felt around his cock though, there was something else Bucky wanted, something he needed like it was _air_. He finally tugged again, urging Clint to stand. Clint’s hands slid along with him, grasping at Bucky’s waist and pulling them in close together, Clint still boxer clad.

“Please, kiss me,” Bucky begged, one hand sliding down out of Clint’s hair to cup his face, caress his unshaven cheek, to pull him in. He ran his thumb over Clint’s bottom lip, swollen from Bucky’s cock and flicked his glance up into Clint’s eyes.

Clint smiled at him and his breath caught. Clint’s eyes were both soft and filled with desire, as he ducked down to kiss Bucky’s jaw, trailing more along till their lips met with a mutual groan.

Bucky shuddered, arching away from the wall, his other hand coming to rest at the small of Clint’s back. Their cocks met, Clint’s boxers doing nothing to disguise how hard he was.

His mouth fell open beneath Clint’s on a gasp, Clint’s mouth pulling gently at his bottom lip before he licked inside. The touch was electric and warm, sharp tingles and soothing strokes. Bucky moved against Clint as they kissed, his hands clutching Clint like a lifeline.

Fumbling between them, Clint’s hands temporarily left Bucky, and he whimpered at the absence until Clint’s bare cock slid against his own.

“Ssshhh, I got ya,” Clint said, even though he couldn’t possibly have heard Bucky, couldn’t have… couldn’t have… Clint slotted his mouth over Bucky’s again and Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut, thoughts splintering away as lips parted and met again and again. Warmth filled him, flowed through him, surrounded him -

Bucky broke the kiss when Clint’s hand closed around them both, the other gripping the meat of Bucky’s thigh and rocking them together.

The movement was gentle, and despite the need flowing through Bucky, he didn’t push for faster, was content enough to have this. His mouth sought Clint’s once more and Clint obliged him and Bucky sank back into Clint’s warmth.

When he came, it was with a sigh into Clint’s mouth, to the soft but unrelenting pull of Clint’s hand around them.

Clint shifted and then spilled between them with a shudder a few strokes later, but the kiss didn’t end for a few, long moments.

Finally, Clint pulled away and grinned sheepishly at Bucky. “I’m sorry.”

Bucky ran a hand over Clint’s cheek. “Why?”

“For getting so caught up in my own head that I didn’t realize I was hurting you. I never wanted to push you away. I thought – “ Clint looked away and Bucky gently turned him back.

“Hey, it ain’t all on you, doll. I made assumptions too,” Bucky said. “C’mon, lets get cleaned up. I ain’t done touching you yet.”

Clint snorted but stepped back and drew aside the curtain, gesturing gallantly. “After you,” he said with a grin.

“You think you’re so cute, don’t ya, doll?” Bucky drawled.

Clint’s eyes twinkled and he waggled his eyebrows. Bucky chuckled and joined him in the shower. There was more touching while they washed, though it was more of comfort than of sex, a reaffirmation that they were _both_ allowed to have this.

And when they finally rejoined Laura in the kitchen near an hour later, she looked at their still wet heads with a small smile. The kids had already gone out to play in the yard and she set their mugs in front of them, dropping a kiss on both their foreheads.

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only one more chapter to go! already written, just needs editing. and this will officially be my longest winterhawk fic yet! Wowser!


	14. Falling into Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky doesn't think he could ever believe in a Happily Ever After - but this came pretty damn close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I had it all written and just needed to edit it (though i decided the last scene needed to be rewritten some) and i was working on a bunch of bingo squares at the same time (I have 5 more days to do 7 more squares. i have only 4 of them planned - 2 of those being art - and i don't think i'm gonna make it, but i did get a bunch up as part of 2 ongoing stories over the past week. )
> 
> hope this ending was worth the wait! THanks for reading! ;D

Life wasn't always roses, but truth was, Bucky didn't think he'd be able to trust it if it were. He felt it oddly comforting, grounding, in a way, that it wasn't.

From then on, intimacy with Clint came as often as it could with so many kids around. But despite it being stolen moments, it was gentle, loving... cherishing. All in all, it was a far cry from his and Clint's rough beginnings, though Bucky had enjoyed that too.

Still, Bucky found himself settling in at the farm quicker than he’d thought, and what had started with Clint soon reached Laura. She was too selfless, too understanding, too stubborn for Bucky _not_ to fall in love with her.

And maybe a little bit reckless and stupid at times.

For instance, that dog that had come up on the property last month could have had rabies or any other diseases. It could have been feral and mean. And she had gone straight for it when the kids had frozen.

It had been a pitiful thing, dirty as hell, blood encrusted, limping – and she’d had the damn thing eating out of her hands in seconds. When it was cleaned, the mutt had gone from dirty, muddy brown to a washed out yellow-gold. When the dog had come back from the vet, he’d lost a leg and an eye and his ears had been torn and tattered to hell.

But despite all that, the dog had come back with a smile on it’s dumb face, a happy wriggle of its body and the enthusiastic thump of its tail.

It was a broken, ugly looking mess and it was friendly and absolutely beautiful.

Lucky had become everyone’s favorite and adopted pretty damn quick. And it was because Laura had not only _not_ turned it away, but had reached out for it first, ignoring the danger to herself because someone needed her help.

Maybe a little like him and Clint. They were dangerous too, covered in scars both visible and not, and they could be absolute bears to deal with on certain days (or before Clint got his coffee) and yet, there they were, folded into Laura’s life like they weren’t the broken men they were.

Like everybody else he’d fallen in love with – Steve, Clint (maybe even Sam, a little, but Bucky would never admit that aloud) – Laura had a good and stubborn heart, one that made you want to be the best that you could be but – even more than that - she was patient with you when you couldn’t be patient with yourself.

So really, falling in love with Laura, in addition to Clint, was inevitable.

He’d have felt guilty about that, but Laura hadn’t let him. Not that Bucky was even sure she realized how far he’d fallen for her. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if this strange, new thing would continue to just be Laura and Clint, Clint and Bucky, with Clint being the glue that kept them together or if it would ever evolve into Laura, Clint _and_ Bucky.

But he found himself increasingly hopeful of it, even if he didn’t quite know how that would work. Still, it was that moment with the dog that Bucky realized he’d gone and fallen in love with another Barton.

He’d skidded to a stop when Laura picked that dog up, when it became evident she was, in fact, in no danger whatsoever from the pathetic creature, and he’d stood there waiting for the pounding of his heart to return to normal, the knowledge slamming into him so suddenly it left him breathless.

Bucky almost felt like this epiphany should have changed things, but it didn’t. Life went on, with their strange little love triangle going on. The kids flourished – Clint and Laura’s children accepting of _all_ the additions in their midst. Bucky cleaned faces and patched up skinned knees, and helped Laura cooking or Clint with repairs.

Days passed, busy and full and full of _living,_ something Bucky was slowly coming to realize he hadn’t really been doing.

It had taken Clint and his family to make Bucky realize just how long he’d been drifting, and then they’d reeled him back in and grounded him, made him feel _alive_ again in a way he hadn’t in a damn long time.

Still, despite all this, and _his_ newfound discovery, it’d only been two months since Bucky had come to live with them permanently, and one month since Lucky had become the family dog, and things seemed to be going well, give or take the odd bump in the road.

Bucky and Clint both still had nightmares and sleepless nights. Amy still had bad days when everything reminded her of her family and only Claudia could go near her without Amy flinching. Leech was prone to thinking the worst even as he hoped for better, and then only Bucky or Artie could get through to him.

But they rallied, and they pulled through, because none of them were truly alone, even if it would still take time for them all to really internalize that.

The worst day hit them in the fall, when the leaves were turning into crisp red and gold and orange colors – a sight that held Bucky entranced - when the kids were playing out in the yard under Lucky and Claudia’s watchful eye, Bucky felt off, restless. As he usually did these days when that happened, he went looking for Clint or Laura or both.

He frowned when he saw no sign of either of them downstairs and he headed up to their room. Bucky had been sharing their bed ever since he and Clint had finally gotten on the same page – thanks to Laura’s nudging - with Clint in the middle most often. 

With each step he took through the house that he didn’t see them, he grew more anxious and jittery.

He felt relief when he approached the bedroom, the open door letting him hear the low murmur of voices. Bucky didn’t hesitate to go in – the door was open and it was his room now, too - but he froze in the doorway when he saw Clint slumped on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

Laura knelt before him, running a hand down over his hair and Clint _flinched,_ pulling away – something he hadn’t been doing so much in weeks. What was wrong? Why was Clint so keyed up?

Why was Bucky?

Clint’s face lifted slightly and Bucky blanched, clutching at the doorframe at the sheer depth of the grief he beheld.

In Clint’s lap was a photo of Nat.

It dawned on Bucky, then, what had been simmering inside him all day. A quick glance at the calendar on the wall confirmed it. Today was Nat’s birthday. He felt the sting of tears and he covered his mouth, slumping further into the doorframe. His knees wobbled.

_Oh god…_

Clint had been extra antsy lately. He’d been short of temper, he’d been staring off into space, but every time Bucky had asked him about it, Clint had brushed him off.

But everyone had their bad days, even Laura. Everyone had their bad nights, too, so Bucky had brushed it off as a normal occurrence and given Clint space. Being at the farm like this, he’d lost track of the time, didn’t really think of it in any conscious way. It was simply a number on the wall.

The only thing that could have hit Clint harder, would have been the anniversary of Nat’s death.

Frozen to the spot in his horror, Bucky watched Laura approach Clint like a spooked horse, reaching up to cup Clint's face. Clint tried to pull away and her other hand reached out to mirror the first. He made a broken little sound that struck at Bucky's heart. 

"We’ve gone over this, my love," she whispered. "You are allowed to touch me. You're not going to corrupt me or whatever it is going through that fool head of yours." She slid her gaze sideways to Bucky, fixing him with a stare that was somehow both stern and soft.

"That goes for you, too. Neither of you are going to break me, you're not going to hurt the children. You're good men, both of you. Nat believed that too."

Clint's hands came up to curl over Laura's and Bucky could tell from the choked sound of his voice that tears filled his eyes.

"I don't deserve you," he said. 

"Nobody _deserves_ anyone," Laura said firmly. "But you have me, and you have Bucky. And Bucky has you. The rest, we can figure out. We _have_ been figuring out."

She pulled one hand away from Clint's face, his hand dropping to his side almost heavily. To Bucky's surprise, Laura reached for him. "Come here," she said, amused patience in her voice. 

Bucky stumbled to their side, suddenly all knees and elbows and dry throat and he swallowed, staring down at Laura with wide eyes even as she took his hand and gave it a little squeeze. 

"Neither of you see it, do you?" She said wonderingly. "You'll forgive everyone else but yourselves. You'll give them all the second chances you don't believe you should have. Others have left you behind before, so you expect it now, but boys, I'm not going anywhere if I have a say in it. And if I _don't,_ " she glared at them, "Then I know who'll fix that. So, stop beating yourselves up over the things you cannot change. If he can forgive you, and you forgive him, for the things you won't tell me about, trust that, trust each other."

Laura reached for the photo in Clint’s lap and he made another sound. “And most of all, you need to trust that Nat would come back from the grave to beat you both over the head for being so maudlin.”

The words surprised a wet chuckle out of Bucky, one that was echoed by Clint, and Laura gave them both a little tug till they’d fallen to their knees beside her and she was hugging them both.

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

That day had marked a change in their lives.

Clint’s grief – only more profound because of the immense guilt he took on, as everyone there who had known her loved and missed Nat – didn’t go away overnight just because Laura had talked to him, and neither did anyone else’s.

But they were dealing with it a little better, these days.

And as they healed, other things started changing too. Clint didn’t always sleep in the middle, anymore, and Bucky sometimes woke with both of them curled around him, keeping him steady and warm. Sometimes, when Laura walked through a room dropping kisses on cheeks and foreheads (the kids) or mouths (Clint), she included Bucky in that.

And _not_ on the forehead.

The first time she’d pressed a kiss to his lips, Bucky had dropped his fork and the kids had giggled at what must have been quite the poleaxed look on his face, but otherwise took it in stride. Claudia had blinked, shook her head and then seemed to come to the decision that she may have been surprised, but really didn’t care.

Laura’s casual touches became more common, and sometimes a little less than casual, though never inappropriate.

And Bucky began to think that maybe they could all of them _truly_ be together.

But that sounded way too good to be true, so Bucky swallowed back his questions and just went on with things. If something were to form between them, then he’d roll with it, but he wasn’t going to push it.

Other than that, the farm saw more visitors than it used to: Sam and Wanda, T’Challa and Shuri, Peter and Kate and all the Power kids and through it all, Laura beamed every time, completely unphased by the horde that descended on the farm.

“The more the merrier,” she said happily, before snagging Bucky to help with the cooking.

On one occasion, when Kate, Lila and Clint were having an impromptu archery contest while Alex, Peter and Cooper were attempting to build a treehouse with Shuri’s enthusiastic help and suggestions, and the other kids were running about the yard with Lucky chasing after them, Bucky found himself on the steps of the porch. He had a beer in his hand and Sam sat to one side and T’Challa on the other. Laura was off with Wanda planning something but wouldn’t say what, while Claudia went around checking on the different groups.

“You seem happy, Barnes,” Sam said.

“You know what? I actually am,” Bucky said.

“Good for you,” Sam said, tapping his beer bottle against Bucky’s.

“I, too, am glad to hear that, my friend,” T’Challa said solemnly before allowing a smile to break over his face.

When the impromptu gathering broke up, Bucky was surprised to see that Claudia and the 6 kids were also walking out of the house, little overnight bags and backpacks being carried along with them.

Before he could say anything, though, Laura was by his side.

“Don’t worry, James,” she said. “Our friends thought we could do with a little break, some alone time. And T’Challa has offered to take them all, including some of our other guests, to Wakanda and see some of the sights.”

“And Clint’s okay with this?” Bucky asked in surprise. Some of Clint’s night time outings were really an excuse to check that everyone was where they should be – a remnant of that nightmarish time when they weren’t.

“Clint is not as bad, these days, with letting the little ones out of his sight.” She nudged his shoulder. “Come, let’s say goodbye to the children and then I don’t know about you, but I plan to enjoy my week off. There may be 4 of us to their 6, but we’re _still_ outnumbered.”

* * * * * * >>\----------> * * * * **

The first few days were so quiet, it actually unnerved Bucky, but by the third day, he’d finally relaxed enough to sleep in.

At least, until Clint woke him, mouthing at his shoulder, rolling his hips against Bucky’s ass.

And wasn’t that a pleasant way to wake up? Clint already knew Bucky didn’t mind it, but it was a rare occasion that they had to indulge.

Without opening his eyes, Bucky reached behind him, grasping Clint’s thigh and pulling his leg up and over Bucky’s. Clint groaned and bit at the back of his neck, his hand snaking around to clutch at Bucky’s stomach, caress the muscles and making them jump beneath Clint’s fingers.

Bucky leaned back into Clint’s warmth, rolling his hips back lazily.

Smaller hands than Clint’s caressed the rough stubble of Bucky’s cheeks and his breath hitched. He opened his eyes to see Laura in front of him. She was biting her lip and there was a question in her eyes, even as her fingers trailed along his jaw.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he breathed out, anticipation making his toes curl and his stomach swoop. A smile curved over her face, both relieved and flirty, her fingers trailing back up to bury themselves in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp even as her lips met his.

He groaned into it, letting go of Clint to reach for Laura. The first touch of their lips was familiar and not, as her tongue slid along his bottom lip, then slipped inside on his gasp. His hand fell on the silky glide of her nightdress and he palmed her hip.

Shit, she felt good, tasted better, Bucky thought.

Shifting closer, she lined her body up with his and tugged his head back slightly, deepening their kiss.

Bucky was burning up, heated on both sides by hot kisses and sliding bodies. He heard a deep chuckle behind him, Clint as he licked and nipped along shoulders he was obsessed with.

Then again, the feeling was mutual.

“Laura finally join the party?” Clint asked, one hand rubbing at Bucky’s stomach before moving around to run along the small of Bucky’s back. Clint slid a hand along the waistband of Bucky’s boxers, teasing lightly before grasping them and shoving them down. Bucky felt his ass exposed, the boxers sitting just under the swell of it, still trapping his rapidly filling cock in the front as Clint ran a hand over one cheek, caressing it gently from top to bottom and back again.

Bucky had never been the center of the attentions of two people before, and he was finding the sensations just a little overwhelming. His head tossed back, giving out a low cry when Laura sucked at his neck.

“What do you want her to do, Bucky?” Clint said against the heated skin of his back, his lips moving downward.

“I…” Bucky couldn’t think, assailed on both sides by talented mouths and skilled tongues. Laura’s hand loosened, pulling free of his hair deftly and gently, before skimming over his shoulder and to his bicep.

Clint’s tongue was moving further downward and Bucky trembled, jerking forward at the first touch of Clint’s tongue to his hole, teasing at the rim. Drawing in a shaky breath, Bucky tried to pull his brain together enough to answer Clint.

“Don’t be afraid to tell me,” Laura said, the words vibrating against his collarbone between kisses.

“You,” Bucky choked out, “Both of you, please…” his voice trailed off on a moan when Clint’s tongue breached his hole, thrusting inside. The slide of calloused fingers over his ass, pushing his cheeks aside to make room for Clint caused Bucky’s hips to twitch, to jerk, his trapped cock colliding with soft flesh.

Laura moaned, rubbing herself over Bucky’s cock. He slid his hands down her thigh, grasping at the bottom of her night dress, already partially rucked up. He pulled gently, and she shifted away from him. He whimpered.

“Shhh,” she said, placing a finger over his lips. Immediately, he sucked her finger into his mouth and she groaned, eyes sipping shut, her body undulating lightly in place. “Just let me…” she whimpered when she pulled her hand free, her fingers away, dropping them to the hem and sliding the night dress up and off.

Now clad only in her panties – sheer, lacey things Bucky’s certain he’s never seen anyone wear before, even if his memory is all full of holes - she lets Bucky stare for a good long moment.

And he _couldn’t_ stop staring, barely breathing as he takes in the scene before him.

Between them, he’s certain that Laura and Clint will finally do what others have tried and failed at – kill him.

He’d seen glimpses, before. A quick flash whenever she wore her summer sleepwear, the waistband peeking over her jeans when she bent over at the oven or to pick up the toys. But those had been accidental, not meant for staring, not meant for _him._

This was her, deliberately showing him, deliberately telling him she was on board.

He dragged his eyes up from the skimpy fabric, over the stretchmarks around her belly, upwards past her breasts, heaving with each breath she took, then up and up to see her lips, parted and wet and swollen, and her eyes, looking down at him with desire.

Not at Clint – or not _just_ at Clint, cause he wasn’t so stupid – but _him_ , Bucky Barnes.

It took his breath away, the expression on her face promising so much if he was ready for it.

That and Clint still humming behind him, still fucking Bucky with his tongue, unrelenting in his pursuit to drive Bucky crazy was going to be the death of him.

Dead, he was dying, they were killing him. This was it, the end of Bucky Barnes.

Laura leaned down, ran a hand over his face, tugged at his lip with her thumb and murmured, “You all right?”

He nodded shakily, closed his eyes on a shuddering breath as a finger worked its way inside him, alongside Clint’s tongue. Forcing them back open again, Bucky kissed the tip of her thumb, then asked, voice croaking, “What do _you_ want?”

Her eyes glittered at the question. “So many things,” she whispered. “But let’s start with your tongue.”

She shifted beside him, his view of her hand disappeared from his sight, reaching over Bucky’s hip, towards Clint.

Clint’s tongue slid away, leaving Bucky empty and he whined until Clint’s calloused hands rolled Bucky to his back, spreading his legs with a smirk up at Bucky.

Laura’s fingers trailed over Bucky’s chest, then back up again. She gazed back up the length of his body and grinned. “And I’ll give you mine.”

Dainty looking, deceptively strong fingers pulled his boxers away from his cock and halfway down his thighs, assisted by Clint who stripped them off entirely. Then Laura swung her leg over Bucky’s chest, bracing herself by her grips on his sides and Bucky groaned as he came face to face with wet panties – purple, he realized with a giddy thought. Her hot breath ghosted over his shaft. She didn’t go straight for it, just teasing along the side of his cock with feather light kisses till they reached his balls.

Clint resettled between Bucky’s legs, pushing them further apart and nipping his way back up Bucky’s thigh until they reached their destination at the same time Laura reached hers.

“Nnnngh,” Bucky said, his brain exploding, his hips twitching as she took him into her mouth and Clint once more breached his hole with his tongue. It took him a long moment before he could shake himself, shake the hazy bliss away enough to reach for her, to curl his arms over her hips and urge her down towards his mouth.

She sucked hard and her lower body spasmed at the first touch of his tongue over the silky wet fabric. He ran his fingers along her legs, moving up, slipping them under the straps of her underwear, but didn’t remove them, just caressing the soft skin of her thighs, his thumb making little circles close to, but never touching the heat of her.

Laura let go with a ragged breath and mouthed her way back up his cock with more pressure, her hand coming up to rest on his flank.

Seconds after, Clint’s hand joined hers and they threaded their fingers together with Bucky under them both, both of their mouths moving to take him apart. Another finger had joined the first and Clint’s tongue without Bucky quite realizing it and he gasped against Laura, rocked his hips up, pushing his cock into her mouth with a whimper, before falling back to Clint, unable to choose, to think.

“Shhh,” Laura said, “We got ya.”

Bucky groaned as she teased the head of his cock with her lips, tongue darting out to catch the slit, tasting him.

Fuck yeah, that was a _great_ idea.

He growled as he pushed the panties down, heard a tearing sound, a gasp, and then he was pressing into her dark curls, nosing along till he found – she shuddered at his touch, groaned against his throbbing cock and he grinned, plying her with his tongue, matching rhythm with Clint.

She jerked under his touch, gasped out a low moan. Her fingers flexed atop him and Clint paused, pulled away from Bucky’s ass, leaving his fingers stroking.

“Look at you both,” Clint said, his voice rough. Bucky couldn’t see him, wished he could. But he sounded pleased, turned on and Bucky flushed with happiness. Clint continued to finger him, and Bucky whined. Laura gasped and Clint groaned and all of it was mixing with the wet sounds of their bodies, and it was goddamn music.

“How wet is she, Buck? God she's wanted to join us for a while,” Clint whispered huskily. Laura pulled of and then there were two mouths on his dick.

Bucky sucked hard on her clit as he arched up, then gentled the touch once more, Laura rocking down into his mouth, both of them chasing mouths and tongue.

“God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” Clint admitted. “The two of you, together with me.”

Bucky shuddered at his words, eyes rolling up. Clint’s fingers inside him, his and Laura’s mouths on Bucky. Fuck, were they – god, Bucky wished he could see the kisses they gave each other with Bucky’s dick between them.

It was probably a beautiful sight; lord knew it felt near heavenly.

Then Clint’s lips slipped away, moving back down again while Laura too Bucky’s length in her mouth and bobbing up and down with spit slick lips - the taste of her in Bucky’s mouth, the overwhelming wealth of feeling coming from Clint echoing in Bucky.

Laura whimpered when Bucky took inspiration from Clint and slid two fingers inside her wet heat easily, his tongue still working away at that part of her that had her writhing against his face.

He jerked forward when Clint added a third finger, making sure to brush against Bucky’s prostate.

“God, I wanna bury myself in you,” Clint said breathlessly against Bucky’s leg, like he was dying for it, like he hadn’t done it before. “And fuck, but I think I’ll explode if I don’t see Laura riding you.”

Laura whimpered, doubling her attention on Bucky’s cock till he had to pull away from her to speak, gasping, “If you guys want that, then she’s gotta stop cause - _oh fuck_ \- I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer.”

She let go instantly, with a pop, head resting against his thigh as she panted, riding his fingers. “Oh, _god,_ yes… yes, I want that…”

Clint pulled his fingers free, leaving Bucky achingly empty, slapping at Bucky’s thigh gently, sliding a hand down Laura’s bare side, tapping lightly. “C’mon, up, then.”

Reluctantly, Bucky and Laura rolled away from each other, Laura standing up to pull her panties off the rest of the way. Clint dropped his at the end of the bed, then knee walking up, kissing first Laura, then Bucky, slow, sensuous. Bucky watched Clint and Laura’s mouths meeting, parting and meeting again, the dainty touch of their tongues before Clint sucked her bottom lip into his mouth with a light growl.

Then he turned, shifted the pillows on the bed and arranged himself. He sat with his back against the headboard, legs outstretched and his cock sitting tall and proud, leaking. Bucky wanted to get his mouth on it but then Clint was reaching for him.

“C’mon, babe, like this,” Clint said. Bucky stroked Clint’s cock once, twice, watching Clint’s eyes shut on a moan before popping back open. Bucky smirked, and licked his palm clean of the precome and Clint moaned again.

His cock twitched appealingly at the sight and Bucky congratulated himself for it before turning his back to Clint and settling into his lap. Clint’s chin came to rest on his shoulder as he reached down between their legs, grabbed hold of his cock and lined himself up, the blunt tip nudging at Bucky’s loose hole and sliding in slowly.

“Oh, my beautiful boys,” Laura's voice groaned out softly. “Fuck, wish you could see him just… sucking you in.”

Bucky looked up from where he was watching Clint and shook his hair out of his eyes. Behind him, directly in his ear, he could hear the gasp, could feel Clint jerk, thrusting up into Bucky’s heat before he stilled against Bucky, Clint’s teeth grazing Bucky’s shoulder lightly before biting down hard.

Laura knelt before them absolutely naked. Her eyes roamed over them greedily, taking them all in, her fingers between her legs, and Bucky groaned, seeing her so eager for this, for him – for _them._

Falling in love with Clint he’d never expected to fall in love with Clint’s wife too. He clenched down on Clint’s cock, his stomach muscles fluttering with that familiar swoop, heat curling inside him. Bucky groaned and tried to shift his body to bring Clint deeper.

Clint’s arm came around to Bucky’s front and – stronger than one might expect – trapped Bucky tight against his body, pressing him close till he stilled.

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Clint said, nipping at Bucky’s ear. Bucky whimpered.

“Yeah, doll, she’s so damn gorgeous it hurts, you both are,” Bucky said. Laura flushed at his words, but he knew Clint didn’t hear them. Bucky resolved to make sure he said that to both of them when they weren’t fucking, but for now, his neck arched and slipped sideways giving Clint better access and then Laura was _there_ hovering over them both, tucking Bucky’s hair out of his face, cupping his jaw and giving him a deep and dirty kiss that left him panting.

And then she sank down his cock, surrounding him with her wet heat, sliding down with a drawn-out moan and her head thrown back and her hands clutching at his shoulders.

His breathing grew ragged as she slid slowly, achingly slowly.

Clint’s hand rubbed circles over his abs. “Easy, Bucky, easy,” Clint murmured into his ear.

“I ain’t a damn horse,” Bucky groused breathlessly.

“Hmmm… but you _are_ hung like one,” Laura said with a wicked little grin, her hips coming flush to his and stilling for an agonizingly long moment as they caught their breaths. Clint’s cock was a hot, hard line inside him, filling Bucky so deliciously, while Bucky’s own dick throbbed eagerly, almost painfully, buried deep inside Laura. He’d never had this before, had never filled and been filled at the same time and Bucky didn’t think he’d last long.

And then Laura began lifting up and dropping back down and Clint was thrusting up in rolling, gentle movements. Fuck, Clint was strong, the Winter Soldier wasn’t light, but Clint was taking both his _and_ Laura’s weight on top of him like it was nothing.

And that was fucking hot.

Bucky needed something to hold on to as each pass of Clint’s cock grazed his prostate, as every clenching slide as Laura rode him began to coalesce into a white-hot bliss. His hands found her hips, slid down her quivering thighs, then back up, caressing the stretchmarks, cupping the underside of her breasts before lightly thumbing over the nipples.

She clenched down with another gasp, her hips stuttered then started again, a little faster, a little more desperate. She leaned closer, changing the angle, and Clint shifted beneath them, the thrusting picking up till he was pounding Bucky’s ass.

Clint’s hand joined Bucky’s on it’s journey around to Laura’s back, pulling her closer, urging her faster. Her breasts swung close to Bucky’s mouth with each push and he leaned up and caught it in his mouth.

Her shout was muffled, the sound of kissing in his ears, but she clenched down on him again. His hands separated from sliding down over her sweat soaked body while Clint went up. Bucky groaned when he palmed her ass, pulling her down on his cock and sucking on the pert nipple now hovering around his lips. She was gasping now, moving frantically and Clint’s lips returned to Bucky’s’ ear, to his neck, to murmuring things Bucky couldn’t quite _hear_ but sent pleasant vibrations along his skin.

He shivered, each touch electric, the wet sound of skin on skin driving him closer to the edge. Clint’s hands dropped to Bucky’s hips, stilling him completely as he and Laura fucked Bucky right over it.

Bucky stiffened, letting go of Laura’s breast, his hands yanking down, holding her close, holding her still as he ground up as much as Clint would let him and spilled inside her with a cry that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

He shuddered as Clint snapped up, fucking deep inside Bucky. One, two more thrusts and Bucky could _feel_ Clint, could feel the warmth of him letting go. Bucky shuddered again, falling back into Clint, laying limply against his chest.

Laura’s hands covered his face, thumbs brushing aside tears. She peppered kisses along his cheeks and whispered _“Shhhh.”_

She was still clenching around his softening cock, still shuddering as her own orgasm milked him of his. Bucky moved one hand from her ass, reached between them and rubbed gently on her clit to help her along.

“Aaaah, aaaah, fuck, James,” she cried out, rolling down over him, into his touch.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Bucky said, his voice still a little unsteady. She twitched and jerked, and he was a little too sensitive now, but then she stiffened on a quiet moan, eyes fluttering shut as she bit her lip.

She seemed suspended there before she, too, slumped down. The three of them were breathing hard, sweat soaked, sticky and more than a little hot, but none of them wanted to separate either.

Finally, Clint huffed out an started shoving at Bucky’s shoulder. “Roll over,” he grumped. “I can’t breathe.”

Laura slid off Bucky first with a squelch that should have been disgusting but Bucky only felt awe as he watched her move with grace and surety, and no ounce of self-consciousness. She helped Bucky roll over, Clint groaning as they came apart.

“We should get cleaned up,” Clint murmured seconds later into Bucky’s shoulder, but despite the words, he was already clinging to Bucky like an octopus, one leg nudging between Bucky’s, his soft cock nestled against Bucky’s wet ass and both his arms wrapped around him. Laura was similarly curled in from the front, soft curves molding to Bucky’s front while Clint’s harder edges were glued to his back. She tucked her head under Bucky’s chin with one arm curled between them, the other slung over his side along Clint’s so they could touch too.

It dawned on him, suddenly - as their warmth, the little huffs of breath against his chest the soft kisses along his shoulder blades, the way they tangled together so closely he couldn’t really discern where one of them started and another of them began – that he’d never be alone again.

Bucky Barnes had finally found a home.

A place that loved unconditionally and allowed him to love them in return with no judgement. A place that was, by turns, quiet then loud. A place where everyone had rough edges, but being around each other softened them.

He didn’t realize he was shaking, that tears were sliding down his face once more, until Laura murmured, running her hands through his hair.

“Are you all right?”

Clint shifted and the warmth at his back disappeared and he squeezed his eyes shut – had he been wrong? – but then it was slotting against him once more. He’d probably put his aids in.

“Bucky? What’s wrong?” Clint said, rubbing his hand up and down Bucky’s arm, the cold metal warming under his touch.

Shaking his head, unable to open his eyes, Bucky curled the arm under Laura into her hair and pressed her close, reaching back with his other to grasp at Clint’s hand when it reached Bucky’s shoulder. He held tightly, but carefully.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he croaked. “I think, finally, everything’s right.”

“If this is about the sex…” Clint said, amusement in his ear.

Bucky shook his head, because it wasn’t. “No, that’s just… When the war happened, when Steve met Peg, I always thought I’d be alone. When I… I came back, I was sure of it. And now I’m here, with you, both of you, and the kids. I have a _dog_ , and a _routine_. Drawers in the dresser and a couple of shelves on the bookcase. Pictures placed up on the walls that include _me._ I get to sit and watch a sunset, to cook for the people I love. It may be nothing like what I could have imagined growing up, but I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“Then why the tears?” Laura asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

“I don’t know,” Bucky admitted.

“Because suddenly you realize you have everything you could ever want but never thought you deserved,” Clint said. “Because of all the things you said, despite all the things we’ve done, despite the ways we’ve been… damaged – “

Bucky swallowed hard at the reminder. Clint kept going.

“- somehow _we_ get to have that. A normal life, a chance to be happy, to be with the people we love. And we did it, against all odds.”

Clint got it, Clint understood what Bucky hadn’t been able to put into words and Laura’s eyes softened as she listened. She pressed a kiss against his chest.

“You did it, because the both of you are stronger than you think you are,” Laura said softly. “Because you two are some of the kindest, most generous souls I have ever seen. And I love you both, more than I can ever describe.”

Bucky’s breath caught on another choked sob and she smiled again.

“Yes, James, even you. I think we’ve come to know each other well enough for that,” she said, clearly not expecting him to reciprocate.

But Bucky had been lost to her early into living here and so he did.

“I love you, too. You and Clint, more than anything,” he said. “’cept maybe those kids.”

“Good,” Clint mumbled against his back with a yawn. “I hate being in a love triangle unless it’s the kind where we’re all on board with each other.”

Laura reached over and smacked his arm. “Clint,” she said chidingly.

“What, you know I love you, babe,” he said. “And if Bucky doesn’t already know I love him too, then we gotta work on his super-secret spy observation skills.”

“You could just tell him,” she said.

“I tell him every damn day, he just needs to know how to listen,” Clint said, yawning again.

And Bucky realized that yes, yes he did. With every touch, every smile, every kiss. When he offered to go on morning runs with Bucky, when he went out and found him new sci fi books to fill out his bookshelf. And though Laura had never said the words aloud till this moment, she’d done the same damn thing.

He grinned. “Yeah y’know what, doll? You’re right. I think I _did_ know already, I just hadn’t dared to believe it till this moment.”

“Then dare to believe, James,” Laura said.

And James dared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here it is, the end.
> 
> so note about the smut - i hope what i was going for came through. the smut was important to the story - not in a sex 'cured' everything way, but in the way that it gave Bucky and the reader more insight to Clint's frame of mind at the time since this whole story is Bucky's POV. however, i'm ace so i find smut really hard to write (you'd think i'd have written enough by now for it to be easy and sometimes it is but other times it's like pulling teeth) and the hardest scene of all was this last one.
> 
> but i think i got it where it needed to be, finally.  
> again, sorry for the delay - hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
